Wheels within wheels within wheels

Sometimes I realize I’ve lost a few little grey cells over the years.

Perhaps it was the tequila at our Mexican Christmas party many years ago (and the “pour everything into the pot” sangria). Perhaps it’s the MS. Perhaps I’m not drinking enough.

All I know is that my patience for trying to figure out things like websites or designing processes or even online classes is at an all time low.

I’m taking a class on WordPress through the Sisters in Crime Guppies group, taught by someone with a true gift for patience and explaining to we poor wanderers out here in the wild. Still, I’ve managed to kill my computer twice already and my printer is still having a nervous breakdown. I ask it to print and it tries, yes it does, and then it simply throws its hands in the air and weeps, virtually tossing sheets of paper over its face in a fit of existential angst. I’m right beside it, threatening it with unplugging or replacement or counselling with the guys at the place I bought it (who I suspect don’t use approved electronic counselling methods). At this point, I’m okay with it if they use a bit of brutality.

I want to learn stuff. I like learning stuff. But seriously, I’m beginning to wonder just how much I am supposed to know about everything simply to survive these days. The requirements are growing instead of shrinking and I am THIS CLOSEto going back to a fountain pen and foolscap and hiring someone else to manage everything else for me.

Like my printer, the messaging I get is incomprehensible and I haven’t even got the language to understand it.

It’s like my ukulele. I love it. I keep ordering books to learn more. I think I understand music a bit. Then I get a book on ukulele riffs and I can’t make head or tails out of the first page in the book.

Or trying to rent a car! I rented a car using my points – an exercise in total frustration right there. So I called to check on it and the guys there ask me, did they tell you about mileage charges? And I said no. Because they never mentioned a word about it. Apparently I am expected to know to ask about EVERYTHING in my life, all the time.

Anyway, I’m rambling here. Which is probably part of the problem.