Losing It
These last few days have been trying to my soul.
My nerves are raw.
And I've discovered I've had a difficult time articulating my anxieties.
Yesterday, I expressed myself by eating a whole bunch of fried chicken, burritos, and chocolate.
Today, I repeated yesterday, and found myself disappointed (not to mention sick).
I spoke again to my friends half-way around the world.
I'd always thought a trip to India would be fantastically fantastic, but now I think I would be haunted by the 8 hours of customer service I have endured (I had to call back today because the recovery disks didn't work, the new hard drive didn't work, the recovery disks didn't work on the hard drive, and the computer kept coming up with new colors of vertical lines).
And I found myself thinking, "OOOO, just give me the chance and I'll rip you a new one! Make your ears burn as my fiery words slide down your ear canal and liquefy your brain, and make your eyes shrivel into little charred raisins, that I will put in my bran cereal and eat for breakfast, but ONLY if I start liking raisins between now and then, which I probably won't, in which case I will throw them out into my yard for the crows to consume, and they will eat them, regurgitate them for their young, and then their babies will defecate your raisiny eyeballs in their nest and STEP ON THEM."
Yeah, I think I've reached a new low.
So, while I was enduring another hour of elevator music, I was trying to think of something exciting to say to my new technician. Something that would shake him to his very core if he made me do one more of those horribly stupid "steps." (They aren't "steps." Steps indicate that you are moving forward, or backward, or in extreme cases, falling down. These "steps" did NOTHING. At least falling down would have been exciting. I mean, the computer finally exploding would have been a great way to void my warranty.)
After realizing that I had nothing at all to shoot at the poor fellow, I realized that I apparently need to read some more books.
(It's at times like these that I really wish I could upload some drawing of this conundrum into Jeremy's computer, but I'm afraid if I add one more thing to this poor computer's hard drive, it will explode. All the Bubble Shooter I have been playing as therapy has brought this poor computer to the brink...)
Years ago, I would have come up with something witty and scathing.
Today, all I could come up with was, "poopface."
And not even "You're a poopface." Just, "poopface."
Bleh...I think Krishna (no, not the same Krishna...must be a very popular name. Like John or Mary. Or poopface.) understood I was going to actually fly to India and smear his shirt with something foul, like...poop...and side stepped any potential "steps," and ordered a return to the factory.
Halle-freaking-lujah.
"Seven to nine days turn around time!" Krishna chirped.
He then began asking me about the weather here in Utah, and if there was snow, and if I had planned my weekend, and gee, was that a baby he heard in the background, blah blah blah. I think it must be their policy to distract their pre-postal customers with extreme politeness.
I could like Krishna. I could. Maybe. Maybe if I don't ever have to call customer service again.
My nerves are raw.
And I've discovered I've had a difficult time articulating my anxieties.
Yesterday, I expressed myself by eating a whole bunch of fried chicken, burritos, and chocolate.
Today, I repeated yesterday, and found myself disappointed (not to mention sick).
I spoke again to my friends half-way around the world.
I'd always thought a trip to India would be fantastically fantastic, but now I think I would be haunted by the 8 hours of customer service I have endured (I had to call back today because the recovery disks didn't work, the new hard drive didn't work, the recovery disks didn't work on the hard drive, and the computer kept coming up with new colors of vertical lines).
And I found myself thinking, "OOOO, just give me the chance and I'll rip you a new one! Make your ears burn as my fiery words slide down your ear canal and liquefy your brain, and make your eyes shrivel into little charred raisins, that I will put in my bran cereal and eat for breakfast, but ONLY if I start liking raisins between now and then, which I probably won't, in which case I will throw them out into my yard for the crows to consume, and they will eat them, regurgitate them for their young, and then their babies will defecate your raisiny eyeballs in their nest and STEP ON THEM."
Yeah, I think I've reached a new low.
So, while I was enduring another hour of elevator music, I was trying to think of something exciting to say to my new technician. Something that would shake him to his very core if he made me do one more of those horribly stupid "steps." (They aren't "steps." Steps indicate that you are moving forward, or backward, or in extreme cases, falling down. These "steps" did NOTHING. At least falling down would have been exciting. I mean, the computer finally exploding would have been a great way to void my warranty.)
After realizing that I had nothing at all to shoot at the poor fellow, I realized that I apparently need to read some more books.
(It's at times like these that I really wish I could upload some drawing of this conundrum into Jeremy's computer, but I'm afraid if I add one more thing to this poor computer's hard drive, it will explode. All the Bubble Shooter I have been playing as therapy has brought this poor computer to the brink...)
Years ago, I would have come up with something witty and scathing.
Today, all I could come up with was, "poopface."
And not even "You're a poopface." Just, "poopface."
Bleh...I think Krishna (no, not the same Krishna...must be a very popular name. Like John or Mary. Or poopface.) understood I was going to actually fly to India and smear his shirt with something foul, like...poop...and side stepped any potential "steps," and ordered a return to the factory.
Halle-freaking-lujah.
"Seven to nine days turn around time!" Krishna chirped.
He then began asking me about the weather here in Utah, and if there was snow, and if I had planned my weekend, and gee, was that a baby he heard in the background, blah blah blah. I think it must be their policy to distract their pre-postal customers with extreme politeness.
I could like Krishna. I could. Maybe. Maybe if I don't ever have to call customer service again.
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