The Boy’s had to go into my computer.
“Here’s the biggest part of your problem,” he says, a slight note of disgust in his voice, “you’re running on Internet Explorer, which is garbage. From now on, you’re using Firefox.”
He shook his head in a mock show of sorrow. “You really should try to keep up, Mom.”
“How do you know this stuff?” I asked.
“How do you not?”
I didn’t appreciate the tone of voice, but I understand. He’s deleted unwanted files from my computer more than once. He may not work in computers, but he’s very good with them. I’m continually impressed with his abilities.
And me and my abilities? If all goes as it’s been going, I am next in line to become the woman with a machine somewhere in the house that is flashing “12:00”.
I used to be smart. Oh, how I wish you could’ve seen me back in the day. Now I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for it. I think I’ve got a certificate somewhere, Proof of Clever-ness or something, but I’ve misplaced it.
I found a pair of socks in the freezer once. Maybe it’s in the freezer.
I don’t like being behind the times. I’m rubbing two sticks together over here, and there are people directly behind me holding out Bics.
Sheesh. Even my analogies are behind the times.
I can’t feel too badly about it, though. We can’t all keep up with every little thing, can we, particularly if we’re not all that interested in it. Just this morning The Boy, for instance, retrieved a wool sweater he bought just weeks ago from the dryer, stunned that it is now half the size it was upon purchase.
Sheesh. How could he not know that you never put wool in the dryer?
Hmm. He knows computers. I know “practical”. Perhaps we can work something out to our mutual benefit.
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