This morning I taught myself how to use and transfer something onto a memory stick. It only took me half an hour. Don’t laugh. Not all of us are whizzkids in that department. I am still in awe of myself that I managed to muster the interest, the patience never mind conquer the stick.
Next is revival of my printer. It’s a good printer, it’s an old printer and now it wants to go into retirement. Which is all well and good, except I never put a pension plan for it into place so it’s in intensive care and I keep saving up for a new one. In the meantime I am in limbo. Yes, I know printers are cheap. But you know … It’s all relative.
Gripped by this morning’s memory stick success I googled my printer’s ailment. Oh dear. Sweethearts. Men. And they are exclusively men – lovingly filming how to clean printer heads (yea, if only one could get them out). And maybe it’s not even the problem anyway!
It’s fascinating to what lengths some people will go to fix the smallest thing. Fact is, by the time I have bought all the cleaning gear and spent the time I might as well buy a new one. No, it’s not quite on par with purchasing a new Rolls Royce when the ashtray is full. It’s fight for survival.
Little will defeat me. In fact my one marvellous and scientifically proven ability, shared with only 1 % of the British population, that I have genius when it comes to solving problems by unusual means. Really? Unusual problems yes. But what of bread and butter problems?
Back to those men and their finely tuned instructions. They will go into such loving detail and then tell you to take the what’s it out. Pardon? What’s a what’s it? And even if I can locate it HOW do I “take it out” without further damage? It’s like telling a child without either feet or solid ground to walk.
I once had a book “One hundred things a woman doesn’t need a man for”. Why I bought I cannot recollect. I had never any intention of rehanging a door. A door hangs where a door hangs, and if not perfect remind yourself of those people in your life who mean something to you and are so imperfect you wouldn’t mind (re) hanging them.
And before you say anything: Once upon a time I was the proud owner of a sander. And used it.
There was also one chapter on, this is for the gentlemen among you: “Stripping with a steamer”. I have fond memories of stripping with a steamer. Industrial strength. OH MY GOD. I enjoyed that. I am not talking some a flimsy room. I am talking a big Victorian house with high ceilings and layers of wallpaper having accumulated over nearly a hundred years. Who needs a gym? You steam ahead, you are left knee deep with debris – and then that most delicious moment when you make order out of chaos again. To be left with a blank canvas. Which I tend to leave to others to fill.
The most irritating thing about being a woman, and I am strong, that you will never ever match a man’s upper arms’ muscle strength. So, there: We have now identified one thing women do need men for.
Looking back (in fact I have just found it again on my shelf) the reason I bought the book most likely because on the front cover there is that epitome of a fine figure of a woman: Think, I don’t know, Fifities, Sixties: Long blond wavy hair, buxom, nipped in waist, short flowery apron, high heels, sitting on a ladder, roller in hand – no doubt, and so it should be (and I mean it) having a G&T at the ready for her husband’s imminent arrival from a day’s hard work to conquer the world and its dog.
Strange when I think about it: I am so very fond of that image, yet here I am insisting to struggle with my blasted printer on my own. Please do feel free to take over.
So enchanted am I by my narrative I got carried into the over six hundred word count.
Have hammer, will nail,
U
Bitch on the Blog 
Nice one re the memory stick. You’re not alone!
Comment by hmwmp — May 27, 2014 @ 14:44 |
Hi, Bill, looking at your blog you appear to be the man to untie the computer knots I get myself into. There are days when I fondly remember the simple word processor and floppy disks (!), preceded by that wonder of the IBM Golfball, amply supported, speeding up delivery, by fax. Fax? How quaint.
You say I am not alone. Kind people offer this by way of comfort. Thanks. But, when in a hole, I’d rather be there by myself. In the hope that everybody else knows what they are doing, throwing me a rope.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — May 28, 2014 @ 12:08 |
I am not a gentleman. My imagination plays riot with these: “Stripping with a steamer” and “….the front cover there is that epitome of a fine figure of a woman: Think, I don’t know, Fifities, Sixties: Long blond wavy hair, buxom, nipped in waist, short flowery apron, high heels, sitting on a ladder, roller in hand….”
Comment by rummuser — May 27, 2014 @ 14:48 |
I know every woman’s fantasy. Though I thought you prefer them dark (haired), crispy skin.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — May 27, 2014 @ 17:41 |
Takes me back to the good-old days of yesteryore when I did computer support over the phone. Short of cleaning the printheads, todays printers are pretty much throw-aways. The companies make their money off ink cartridges and when a printer dies the cost of a new one – at least here – is typically less than a repair shop charges for service.
Nice job with the memory stick – also known as a thub drive. They can be a source of irritation even to us older geeks who have ben in the industry since its inception.
U I find it hard to envision you as a June Cleaver type regardless of upper body strength. 🙂
I’ve never owned a sander so you are one-up on me there.
Chuck
Comment by shackman — May 27, 2014 @ 14:56 |
Big sigh, Chuck. Indeed: Today a lot is throwaway unless you have an emotional entanglement. In which case you will do anything to salvage the remnants.
What did I come across the other day (cue printer): It’s cheaper to buy a new one than to get it repaired. Combine that with technology (in all spheres of life) moving at a pace I most certainly can’t keep up with and I am scratching my head. Where that does leave craftsmanship, love for detail, you name it? I don’t know. On its deathbed. I have a wonderful book on my shelf, one I sometimes look at with longing “The Forgotten Arts & Crafts” by John Seymour – Skills from bygone Days). It’s more than nostalgia on my part since I had the fortune to experience some of it when those skills were still in every day bloom.
Another example. Until recently most shoes had leather soles. And so there were funny little men in funny little shops smelling of leather who’d resole, put a new heel on. This was brought home to me last year when I bought a pair of flat – though dressy – shoes. I tend to look at heels. So, a few months in, slightly worn round the edges, I realized there was NO repair – because the sole was most certainly not leather. Now, the choice, and here we veer into the land of both ethics and philosophy: Do I ditch some otherwise good shoes because I do not wish to appear “down at heel”?
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — May 27, 2014 @ 17:37 |
I used to love the smell of a shoe repair shop – haven’t seen one in decades. There’s still craftsmanship but in the computer industry I think it relates to the design since most of the stuff comes from China. I try and seek items at least made in Korea or Japan as the quality ad components are typically much better. I do have a friend whose husband is an amazing artist with wood – not art artist nut cabinetry, rocking horses and the like,. I am constantly amazed at what he produces. I have no inherent talents in that vein and when in high school when there were classes that taught such I was a 3-sport jock prepping for college so I never really learned anything.
Comment by shackman — May 28, 2014 @ 00:05 |
What’s a memory stick? As for the printer…. anyone who seeks to repair a modern printer has me undying respect and sympathy…….. I did onece replace a stepper motor (whatever that is) on my trusty ols Epson FX80 dot matrix printer. Long since disposed of on the front garden wall. It actually had ametal carcase so you know how,long ago that was.
As for upper arm trength… don’t come to me. I’m feeble escept when it comes to using other than Brute force and ignorance….I tend to apply science to tasks.
As for a sander: a block and emery paper does me.
Now to find out what a memory stick iactually is…… I do use things called SD cards.
Best wishes to everyone
David
Comment by magpie11 — May 27, 2014 @ 15:10 |
A bit like you, that’s me. But only a bit. I fiddle around with techno stuff until I have either cracked or broken it. As for upper arm stuff, I play the helpless little woman with the cheque book. I treat myself to very little, but am always ready to cajole, entreat, beg, and if none of that works, pay for help. I’ve never yet sold my body though.
Comment by friko — May 27, 2014 @ 17:02 |
Neither have I, Friko. Bit of a bugger though. Not many overheads – other than your mental wellbeing – when selling your body. I admire women who are able to do so. I am a pretty touchy feely person but only when bolstered by affection. Still, as the Angel once observed, though in completely different context: Sometimes we need to compartmentalize life in order to get on with it.
At least, unlike you, I don’t let helpless men loose with a chain saw.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — May 27, 2014 @ 17:13 |
I’m always astonished by those males who spend days and days fixing some little technical glitch because they’re determined to do it themselves. Personally I have no interest in tinkering about with some intransigent machine. Either I find someone who can fix it or I replace it. Life is too short for such meticulous labours.
I wouldn’t be without my memory stick. It has all my important documents and photos on it, which came in very handy when my computer had to be replaced recently and I was able to reload all that stuff onto the new one.
Comment by nick — May 28, 2014 @ 08:52 |
Well, don’t knock it, Nick, men “tinkering”.
Leaving the practical purpose of, say, saving money aside, a lot of men actually LIKE tinkering. I find it endearing – and my extended family and most my friends being male – I have seen so many facets of it. Also, and people might think it a cliche (except that cliches are cliches because they contain a whole sackful of grains of truths), the “garden shed”, the “tinkering”, the lovingly “polishing the car” gives men respite from the onslaught of daily life. The solitary pursuit when everyone leaves you alone. And then there is manly pride. The man with the tool box. Men, forgive me for generalizing, want to FIX things. The few times in my life I have seen men, even the calmest, get irate is when they can’t ‘fix’ something. By which I do NOT mean a puncture in a tyre or a wonky shelf.
U
Comment by bitchontheblog — May 28, 2014 @ 12:21 |