The last time The Mister left town, chaos ensued. Andrea suggested a karma cleanse. I laughed.
The Mister left shortly after New Year for another trip. The day he left, Nicholas, who has had two bathroom accidents his entire short life, released his bowels upon our home and car with the fury of a cyclone. Mikey, upon surveying the damage in the bathroom, noted, “Mom, I think he thought had to fart. That’s not a fart.”
In keeping with the theme of “Mister leaves and things go to pot,” my computer started to officially circle the drain the same day Nicholas missed the drain. I would like to schedule that karma cleanse, please.
The problem with my computer has been going on for about a year, but to make a long story short, I took several hours of my life last night to move all my music and movie files to a separate hard drive. I’ll be doing the same thing with my pictures from 2010, as prior years are already stored on a separate drive and on disks. Until I have the courage to delete all my music and movie files on my computer hard drive (I’m so scared I didn’t transfer the files right!), I’m going to hold off uploading any pictures. Even better, I’m going to hold off placing my camera in the same room as my computer, because I think the former is giving the latter PTSD.
I also have PTSD, but not because my computer turned into Hal 9000, although that is certainly something to worry about. I’m still cowering in the corner sobbing gently into cupped hands thanks to my visit to the Genius Bar because, I think we all can agree, having someone who barely reaches the legal age of drinking rifle around your hard drive is as uncomfortable as a visit to your gynecologist. The gynecologist at least uses gloves. Some even wear lab coats, which helps set an appropriate level of expectation. My guy at the Genius Bar wore a royal blue t-shirt and had finger nails bitten down to the quick. His cuticles were a mess. (Still a cute looking fellow, though.)
Foolish me, I walked in feeling rather confident. I cleaned off my desktop days prior, so rather than the usual Jackson Pollock splatter of downloads, everything looked nice and tidy against a back drop of one of my favorite pictures of the boys. So when he warned me this might be cold “I’m going to turn on your computer now,” I smiled smugly and said, “Of course.”
Then he saw my desktop, so clean and lovely, and commented on the picture of the boys, going as far to say that they were, “good looking kids.” I smiled wider and decided his fingernails weren’t that bad.
It took a while for the computer to boot up and it was wheezing along nicely, something that put me in a deliriously happy mood. Usually when I bring in my computer, whatever problem I’ve had magically disappears, leaving me to look like a frazzled stay-at-home mom hopped up on Starbucks and incapable of waiting more than two seconds for her Gymboree order to process. (Friends and Family! Gym Bucks! Must. Buy. More. Headbands.) I was two seconds away from a touch down dance when he mentioned something about checking my files for size.
Dude, I can tell you right now anything size related on my watch is going to be big.
We checked my available disk space. 10 GB.
He stared at me in horror. I stared back blankly. What, is that not good?
No, Ma’am, that’s not good.
See, I remember buying a computer with a 750 Mhz hard drive. I road that thing like a super highway. The way I see it, at 10 GB the party is just getting started. It turns out that at 10 GB, the party is not getting started. The party is winding down, and the only ones still there have nowhere else to go, like old married people.
We decided to see what was taking up so much room. I directed him to my pictures, and we saw that they take up almost 30 GB. Not as bad as it used to be, but getting there. Still not the culprit, however.
Then he looked at my music and movies. We had a winner at 73 GB of space. We use Apple TV, and all those movies and TV shows we bought were starting to take a toll. That’s a problem easily solved, he assured me, by transferring everything over to a separate hard drive and redirecting itunes. I don’t know. Something like that. He told me he would show me how to do it, step by step. Then he opened my music and movies file.
Que the sound of a medical glove snapping.
Music and movies, those are personal things. You can learn a lot about a person just by observing their taste in both, especially when neither is good. It went exactly as I anticipated.
His main purpose was to show how, when in the new hard drive, to make sure everything transferred properly. You couldn’t just see the file and assume it works. You have to go into the actual folder and make sure the mp3 was still there. And so he opened up my music and looked for a file to use as an example.
And of course he skipped over all the ones that might make me look remotely current in the eyes of a 21 year-old boy with a scruffy beard and ironic glasses.
Cee Lo Green? See you later.
Band of Horses? Trotted right past that one.
Frightened Rabbit? Trix are for kids.
No, Mr. Subversive had to pause briefly at Beyoncé, smirk, and zero in on Islands in the Stream by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers because, as he put it, “You wouldn’t want to lose that.”
Oh, I don’t know. I’ve already lost my dignity, why not my penchant for 1980s country music?