Revenge of the Trash Bin!

Today's one of those days, where having finally got your head around the need to turn into a computer geek, you're on a mission.  Of course, the need far outweighs the actually meagre talent by which to execute such lofty ambitions.  However, you're confident that whatever little knowledge you do have, will be sufficient for the task ahead.  I should add at this point that there's no braver man than a fool on a mission, especially one that's largely self-taught, and one who's about technically advanced as the elastic on a jockstrap.  Never mind, if nothing else one of the greatest testaments to the success of men is their somewhat naive ability to out-think their actual ability to think.  By the way, this is known by two terms in the English language (1) delusions of grandeur and (2) a hopeless romantic.

Having got up before 8am, an excellent indication of determination to overcome the dire struggle ahead, I turned my beautiful laptop on, so whilst I'm preparing breakfast, then commencing with the necessary ablutions that are always mandatory upon rising, she's warming up nicely, expectantly awaiting the gentle caress of my delicate fingers.  There's nothing that gets her going more than the gentle touch of fingers, caressing her keyboard.  Watching her respond to this tender manipulation can only bring a smile to my face; a radiant and contented smile that signals nothing but pure pleasure.

Such a start gives a deep sense of accomplishment.  In that very moment there's the acknowledgment of the close relationship, which intimately exists.  At that moment you are at one with your beautiful laptop, and you're at peace.  One can only sit back for a moment or two and marvel at the joyful union of like-minded spirits, softly enjoined together in a single purpose.

Thus with a dogged determination known only to the male species, females generally look on with a sympathetic smirk, you head into the wilderness.  Let there be no misunderstanding here, I'm utterly convinced that the task ahead is a piece of carrot cake (I've mentioned carrot cake, not because it's got anything to do with the point in question, but because I like it, which is a good enough reason in my book, which by the way will be published at some point, but that's another story...).  Anyway, enough of this prattling!

Some 12 hours later, after suitable pit stops for much needed sustenance, the following applies:

• Excellent start
• Interruptions, very delightful in one case, very weird in the other
• Wholesale massacre of hard drive (done gingerly, scaredy catty operating, idiot in charge)
• "Up yours!" replies trash bin (jealous of me & laptop) refusing to do anything I tell it
• Trash bin threatened with punitive action, I threaten to put Barry Manilow in the bin
• Trash bin gives in, emptying its lot (arrogant smile on my face)
• Trash bin knowingly smirks (he who laughs last, laughs longest)
• 'C' drive before the start had 9GBs free, after 12 long hours it's now got 1.9GBs free
• Trash bin now in fits of giggles
• I can't find Barry Manilow
• I give up

Whoever said life would become immeasurably easier, due to technology, clearly has had no contact with my trash bin.  Never mind there always tomorrow, or the weekend, or next week...or whenever I manage to locate Barry Manilow.  By the way as anyone seen him recently?  The last I heard he was searching for Mandy amongst thousands of lit candles blowing in the wind.