Breakdown approaching at the speed of light
It has come to pass that I don't have the energy to tell you everything that has happened since the last post. Suffice to say that I am single handedly to blame for frustrating the efforts to keep the nursing home open, according to the poisonous little toad D.O.N. All I wanted was to put Mum's name down on the ACAS list and with the placement officer so that when the time came I was ready to move her to a nursing home where she could have Doc Marvin. I wasn't moving her the next day, that rumour went round like wildfire and then we have the lickspittle carers (not the good ones) telling Mum what a terrible place I was taking her to. As though I wasn't acting under instructions from the old bag that I had to make sure she could have Doc Marvin. As of this morning she's been told she can end up in a tent in Shitter's Ditch and I won't be visiting. I think it might have been the stress that caused me to black out down the back steps, coming too, to find myself hanging on the branches of the apple tree. Funny feeling watching the sky turn purple then disappear into black but self preservation must have made me go for the tree instead of falling on my face. After the last week, I'm calling that good luck.
This is me at the moment. Volcanic rage encased in glass, hopefully for all concerned, not to be broken. I've seen a lot of paperweights but never with a volcano inside.
More good news. I have a new desktop which is so much more powerful than the dear old 2005 unit I'm using now. Does anybody know a 10 year old kid who will set it up for me? First take all images off the old one and go through emails and save all passwords. It comes with IE 8.1 version. Anybody know if this is okay? And I don't think that using the back up from 2005 will be enough for 2014. Instead of working with 1G of RAM, I'll have 4 and 1 Terrabyte of HDD, haven't a clue what that means. I like a desktop because if the flat screen monitor goes, I can get a new one and I have two keyboards which I change around to help the arthritis, seems to work. I may need a new mouse considering the beating this one has had lately. Nothing like smashing a mouse up and down to make a page load faster. And where I have it all set up I can cloud watch or moon watch through the window. When I shut down, I walk away and with a laptop I don't think I could do that. I'll be right as soon as I open the box, haven't had time to even read the instructions or look at the nice black shineyness of it.
And the Queen of Fonts will reign again, I can put them all back. I've been working with 10 only, very frustrating.
16 comments:
Hiss and spit. And repeat.
Is there anything I can do to help?
I like that volcanic paperweight.
So glad you landed in the apple tree and not on your face.
"Nothing like smashing a mouse up and down to make a page load faster." I detected cynicism. So you are saying that doesn't work?
I can't believe I am saying this, but happy to help where I can.
BRAVO on the first point. It is about you not them. DoN isn't going to help you when all is high and dry so good move with the list. I have her on a list myself but the acronym isn't ACAS.
On the 2nd point: You have an apple tree? (no really, that could have been fatal or worse - such a long drive for me to visit you in the ICU).
3. new technology? wunderbar Witchy.
Does "IE 8.1" mean Windows8? I still don't know what RAM is and I have been computerised since 1987 and worked for a software developer.
Please take care opening the carton.
x x x
I'm not certain, but I think only relatives can visit patients in the ICU.
Sorry to be up so late, but I'm asleep and awake any old time. Well I'm busy of course, RH on the job, Temple of Extreme Thought ablaze.
Darlings will be interested to know I came out of the ICU into a ward. My room had a wide doorway (no door). It was opposite the Nurse’s Station and I was able to look out from my bed and see what was going on.
I was a strange customer, up all night roaming the corridor, or at my little table reading newspapers. Every morning at six a solemn group of men floated in: doctors and surgeons. They took folders from shelves at the nurse’s station and browsed through them. I have never seen more serious men. At around eight they started going from room to room. They stood around my bed, six of them, listening as the surgeon interviewed me. I was a star turn and I knew it. The big scene was when I had to show my gut: twenty-six staples.
And I made a confession, told them about my crack up after the operation, how I thought the black people wanted to knock me. It was hard not to laugh, especially about them dancing around all night. Anyway, I thought it might be good for my little audience to know this; some were probably students. (And maybe paranoia was a common reaction to surgery; trauma in general?) I still wasn’t right in the head, but got off quite a few jokes with the nurses.
Being funny is entertaining, but that’s all. Seriousness is essential to art. These medical people with serious faces, knowing so much, are beyond my reach. They have the minds, the gifts, the insight, of artists.
Ann O'Dyne; RAM is random access memory, which is what you use to call up all your regular sites.
on behalf of that old bat AOD, I thank you dear River, but as we can all operate a car and wrangle with our TV without being able to understand cathode rays or the combustion engine, I have no idea why Copperwitch has RAM problems and I don't, when we both look at some Pinterest board with 4000 images of tiaras. Random? yep. Memory? nah. Access? oh let me outta here.
It's possible Copperwitch needs to defragment her hard drive. RAM pulls stuff from all over the place and drops it back in just anywhere. Defragging the drive gets everything resorted into some sort of order so RAM can more easily find what you are looking for. I defrag every week. And run anti virus scans weekly too. Also delete cookies weekly.
I delete cookies at every logoff.
Coppy is throwing a turntable out.
You're throwing out a turntable? Does it work?
EC, I now have a rotten cold so it's hiss and dribble.
River, I believe in Cosmic Karma, they'll get their comuppence without injuring my Cosmic balance.
Andrew, of course bashing the mouse up and down makes the page load faster. One day the mouse will fight back but I have a new one in the pack.
Annie, A huge apple tree with wormy apples that the parrots love and the bogan brushies hang around in waiting for food.
This morning I cleared the temporary internet files which I have to or the machine hides under the bed. Total files deleted 17,922 plus 27 cookies that aren't on my save cookies list.
It is Windows 8.1 and I haven't had the right frame of mind to open the box yet.
Robbert, 26 staples! What were they doing, digging for gold or trying to find your heart?
No, the fckning turntable does work but because it's a closed unit I can't get it fixed. There's a loose wire behind the sound adjuster but it can't be unscrewed. If the nephew couldn't fix it, it's cactus. And try finding a new diamond needle for it. I haven't taken it out yet because I'll give my quick fix another try, jamming a thumb tack underneath the sound button. I love it because it has tape to tape recording, a radio plus the turntable and compact.
River, I have less gigs of RAM than a mobile phone but the old dear is nearly 10 years old and came with 256mb of RAM until I had it upgraded.
Stacks, I remember way back when you stumbled across the temp internet cache and found a million old files. I do all the cleaning stuff, I use CCleaner which even cleans up left over files from updates and it's free.
Now I'm taking my dripping nose and banging headache to sit by the fire.
New heading, very appropriate.
Stomach ulcer. Bleeding. Two operations; the second went for eight hours. Jokes aside, I'm lucky to be alive. Different surgeons told me. Really wanted me to know.
The permed heads of Glen Iris and Sandringham, grandparents of sluts and metal pierced PROSTITUTES...shaven-headed halfwits, dog-faced feminists of North Fitzroy!
Greetings!
ICU. I had two poofs on night shift and a little Vietnamese nurse on days. She was a Catholic. I said have you ever been to Saint Ignatius for midnight mass, and she said yes. I said so have I and she thought I was Catholic. I'm not. She stood me up and washed me down, she withdrew the catheter from my old boy, it hurt like hell. I said "hell" and she ticked me off for it. She thought I was Catholic, like her. I want to say something now, to you, nurse Chau, I have never in my life known such love and sacrifice from one person to another.
And a stranger, dirty old bastard like me.
I am changed.
We seem to have reached a pause here. I thought of relating my paranoid experiences with the black people (THE BONGO PEOPLE) at Footscray hospital but really it's all getting a bit dreary and that episode in particular was horrifying. Meanwhile my good pal Geoff who is a genuine paid up certified paranoiac has resumed his attendance at The Crazy Horse peep show cinema. (This apparent anachronism of a place is at the end of Elizabeth street, two doors up from a dirty book shop which he also attends.) He says there's never more than about four people in the theatre audience and they're all rather elderly. Last week some character came in and sat right next to a bloke who had the front row all to himself. Something happened and the first bloke leapt up and punched the newcomer in the head, knocking him to the floor. He lay there groaning for quite a while until the ticket seller finally wandered down and helped him out of the place. The Crazy Horse presents a little interval from time to time featuring a naked pole dancing lady. There are also little rooms at the side where you can pay two dollars and watch a lady playing with her fanny. Geoff was amused and rather hurt one day when a woman going past the place abused him as he went down the stairs. "You filthy mongrel'" she said. Well at least he's never furtive about it (or maybe he doesn't know any better?) All the same, it's a bit much from a one time private school boy.
Meanwhile he's been there so often lately I said why don't you see if there's a season ticket? "Beg your pardon," he says, "I don't like to commit myself."
I got it wrong. I've been corrected. It wasn't the ticket seller who got the poor bloke out of the cinema, two paramedics arrived and put him on a stretcher. And there was no disruption for the three patrons watching the dirty movie, it continued throughout.
And that's all from me. My thanks to everybody.
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