It was a day like any other. I was plugging away at some website work, went away to fix a cup of tea, and returned to my office to find my computer feverishly rebooting, spewing ominous messages on a blue screen, and generally losing its sh@t. Seems kinda virusy, actually, somewhat Pluto direct-ish (this evening at 8:12 pm), since this appears to be a spyware-related malfunction. Sigh. So much for that afternoon. I’ve got a disinfectant running right now and have been exiled to the laptop, giving me the perfect excuse to goof off, which – let’s face it – is sort of what I really wanted to do today anyhow.
We’ve got an automotive drama playing out too. (This is all sounding vaguely Mercurial, isn’t it? And sure enough – according to my friend Jim, we’re in the shadow period for the upcoming Mercury Rx. It stations on Sep. 24). Our sagging 1994 Ford Ranger pickup failed its smog check, as we were fairly confident it would; so the mechanic (not our usual fabulous guy, who wisely refuses to work on emissions systems) ran a diagnostics test and delivered a grim prognosis involving $1600 worth of repairs. For a truck that’s worth – optimistically – about $1600, this didn’t sound like an appealing offer. We have grave misgivings about a couple of his recommendations, actually, so we (meaning, of course, Jonny) will sort it out ourselves and hopefully come through this situation without having to take out a mortgage. Mind you, this vehicle has been a money pit since the day we bought it, so none of this comes as much of a surprise. Does that make us feel any better? Why no, actually, it does not.
Is it just me, or are your machines rebelling too?
