But first, unrelated, and seriously:If you are a woman or a man, or the parent of a future woman or a man, you should read this.
So did I tell you I called the Geek Squad the other day to find out about getting a new network installed? (It's not a network actually, just a cable router and all that entails.) They said they could do it, but I'd have to go to the store to buy the equipment first. I figured I'd buy it and see if I could install it myself. Well, I know I could if I wanted to, since I did the last one, and the equipment is just a matter of plugging in cables, but I wasn't looking forward to configuring the damn thing. The Geek I spoke to in the store assured me of its simplicity, so I bought the stuff and came home to give it a try.
Step One: There is no manual or written instruction sheet. You put in the CD and follow the directions.
Step Two: You plug in all the equipment as described in the CD instructions. When the router falls off the five-foot high shelf and onto your head where you are knealing on the floor looking for the the electrical outlet, you're finished.
Step Three: Wail and curse fate for ten minutes, even though you are grateful that a) the thing fell on your head flat, and not on its corner, which would have hurt a lot more, and b) the thing missed by nearly an inch the soft spot on the back of your head where you have no skull bone since that pesky brain surgery some years back.
Step Four: The CD installation stops dead and tells you it must be configured manually and you need to call your ISP for all the settings.
Step Four: Unplug the new router and put the old one back. The Internet no longer works.
Step Five: Wail and curse fate until your computer reboots and the Internet comes back.
Step Six: Call the Geek Squad and make an appointment for Tuesday at 3:00 to get the new system put in.
Call me crazy or call me old, I'm just not interested in trouble-shooting any kind of computer nonsense anymore. I've done plenty in my day. I'm done.
R and I watched March of the Penguins today. Other than lulling us both to sleep, we liked it. Those penguin chicks look just like Beanie Babies.
I went to the Christmas Tree Shop this morning. It just opened last week, the first one in New Jersey (it's a New England thing, so some of you know what I'm talking about), and it's not far from my house. I was not impressed, although I really like the one I go to sometimes over the border into New York. This one wasn't laid out well, and it was full of ... let's just say it, morons. Is there no one in New Jersey who understands the expression "Excuse me?" They take this to mean that they should move an inch or so, but not actually out of anyone's way. And I was disappointed because the store did not have what I was looking for. What was I looking for? A Christmas tree, actually. I wanted a small, tabletop tree, but they had none of those, although I could have had ten different styles of Santa mailboxes. Too bad they don't call it the Santa Mailbox Shop.
