The diagnostic testing was inconclusive so there is no treatment plan. Derek is slower than ever and I can only conclude that he’s sulking. The tech was too kind to say but my diagnosis is senescence as many of you have suggested although there was a degree of prejudice against his kind where a preference for an Apple exists.
Derek will be destined for an old people’s home while I find a toy boy, technologically speaking that is, but until we decide Which Way Now – USA or Europe – we will hang on to Derek as well as Bill and Bob the naughty 2G phones that refuse to play with the new cell phone tower next door.
Derek thanks everyone who has shown concern for his welfare but has been quite distressed at the number of people who feel I should trade him in for a piece of fruit.
Now he’s been mesmerized by this slide show of white-tailed deer at Ochlockonee River State Park in Florida:
The bills are paid, the checkbook is balanced. I’ve had a last troll through WordPress Reader, Facebook, Twitter, Gmail, Pinterest , three different Hotmail-now-Outlook email accounts and Amazon, both .com and .co.uk. The local-to-seven-time-zones-away newspaper has been checked for football (you call it soccer) results; BBC.co.uk has been scanned a last time. Zoopla.co.uk and Zillow.com have been perused for houses. Again.
The time has come. Derek the laptop is being sent away for treatment.
His problems are two-fold. We’ve filled his belly with double doses of music, photos and text files which is partly to blame for his worsening mental functions. None of us perform well after a big lunch. But a rapidly developing early onset dementia is now made apparent by blank screens and infuriating little circles that go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round which indicates I’m thinking before he blurts that tired old message, the only one he can recall, this page can’t be displayed. His instant recall is rubbish.
Not helping his troubled mind, Derek has been at odds with the new AT&T tower next door. He feeds his poorly brain with a 4G Verizon signal but AT&T badgers him so he constantly loses his train of thought.
To give him a break from the neighbor’s harassment I take Derek to the library for a refreshing dose of free Wi-Fi. His condition causes him to repeatedly drop the signal, like a baby with a rattle. He won’t pick it up and I can’t pick it up for him. The other boys and girls are playing happily on their laptops, but Derek made me complain to the librarian despite the fact that he was the wayward one.
The signal is fine. See that green circle? No-one else has complained. I think the problem is . . . . . . . , and she looked at me sympathetically before her eyes dropped to Derek.
Back at home he returns to his meditative state. My brain is always full of chatter but Derek can clear his mind beautifully and just ooooooooooom.
I could put Derek in a home and use the library computers but their browsers aren’t up to date and don’t support spellcheck on WordPress. As I am a teribul tipist and my speeling is werse I have developed a spellcheck dependency disorder. Which means I am co-dependent with Derek.
And I would miss his warm presence on my lap.
C’mon Derek, off you go. There’s a good lad. The nice man won’t hurt you. He’ll hook you up to life support, run some diagnostics for a couple of days and then put you on a detox.
Some things just aren’t worth trying to explain to our other halves.
We had access to an office suite with two online computers at the apartment complex where we started our stay in the United States. It was a small room so quite difficult to tune out other people’s conversations. I was surfing mindlessly when I overheard the following conversation between a young woman and her other half:
“When we finish here we need to go to Office Depot or Staples or somewhere so I can buy a pink notebook and some pink pens.”
“So I can start planning my sister’s wedding.”
“You need a special notebook for that?”
“I just do.”
“They’ll help me with my planning.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t get it.”
It was still amicable at that point but he clearly was showing no signs of comprehension of her needs and she was at a loss to explain. I couldn’t stand it any longer so butted in, “It’s a girl thing. You’re not meant to understand.” Startled to be interrupted, they both turned to me then laughed fortunately instead of telling me to mind my own business.
“Ah, I get it now,” he grinned. “So while you go to the store,” he said to her, “I’ll stay at home and drink beer.”
“Yes, and that’s a guy thing,” I laughed and we all went back to our computers.
Jimmy and I demonstrated this same relationship yin and yang when buying cushions for our new apartment from a heap marked 75% off.
“Why do you want them?”
“The sofa doesn’t look right without them.”
“It looks fine to me and they just get in the way.”
“This isn’t your area of expertise. Go and look at some wine while I choose them,” but he was afraid to leave me alone with a pile of wildly discounted cushions. “I’ll have two rust-colored ones and one gold one.”
“Why do you need three?”
I didn’t bother to try to explain that two cushions wouldn’t look right, that sometimes an odd number is better, that the rust cushions would link to the pattern on the gold cushion and the gold color would link to the sofa. He’s a man and cushions are just redundant. For redundant the thesaurus suggests uncalled-for. Jimmy would agree.
“They’re only five dollars.” I mean really, how much more explanation do you need? So he resigned himself to doing his man thing, checked the cushions for flaws and then carried them out of the shop.
They disintegrated within weeks but himself had the good grace not to pursue the cushion issue further.
But I say cushions are versatile and attractive additions to any home. Wouldn’t you agree?