On the Way...to Biting the Dust

Oh my poor laptop! It is dying a very slow death. From what we've been told by two different computer repairers, it's dying because of coffee. Yep - too much coffee. BUT it's NOT my fault! No - I am not the one who spilled coffee on it many, many moons ago. I lay that blame firmly at the feet of two other unnamed family members (you know who you are!). I thought the first repair person had cleaned it up - but Mel told me a few days ago that no, it had not been cleaned. Nor had it been cleaned by the second repair person, although they said it was very dangerous to not clean it. I confess - I don't get it. We took it in to be fixed and they tell us it needs to be fixed and send it home. Huh?? Sigh. I don't know if there is any hope now - I really did think they had cleaned it the second time we took it in ... I wonder what they are waiting for - detailed instructions? "First you take the thing apart and then you clean it. Clean - as in, make it not dirty, not covered in coffee wherever it is covered in coffee, and remove the cat hair, dust and whatever else is in there stuck to the coffee. Then you put it back together again. We will PAY you to do this."

I'm using Mel's very old laptop to post this today. I can turn the newer one on and I can even check email on it. But there is absolutely no way at all that I can pull up a web page. I have tried a dozen different ways ...... and crashed the computer every time. Yesterday I also had no Yahoo! Instant Messaging or Disc Clean-up program. Today they are both back. Instead, when I clicked on the File button in the email program, the email froze up and the computer crashed. It's like there is a little gremlin in there under the keys, running here and there, messing with not only my computer, but also my mind. :) I have a anti-virus program - more than one, actually! A malware program and a spyware program. I don't know what else I can do to protect it from outside attacks... and apparently I'm not too good at keeping it from coffee addiction either.

At least the weather is a teeny bit cooler. And the entry way is ready for the first coat of paint tomorrow (which I still have to buy). And I'm almost finished reading, Redwall, by Brain Jacques (loaned to me by Nadia).

The 'crazy lady' was yelling out on the street again awhile ago. I went out on the balcony and looked, but could not see who she was screaming at this time. It might have been the old man who was out there when we walked by on our way home from church. "Young man, you are a nice young man (he was talking to Mel). I am a 70 year old pensioner. Can you give me some kopecks?" Since we have no idea who this man is, and what he wants the money for (probably vodka or beer, I'm sad to say), we did not give him any. I felt really sad, though, because this man is approximately the same age as my own father. I thought afterward that I should have given him one of the bananas Mel had in the bag he was carrying. Several minutes later when I looked out the window in the kitchen, he was carrying a bunch of stuff he's just pulled out of the garbage dumpsters. He was headed for the same entry way the the crazy lady lives in, and she was sitting outside - so, it might have been them going at it. Very sad. It breaks your heart.

So, in the great scheme of life - I fight with my computer, something I need for what I do - write, finances, keeping up with news, communication with people in the States, etc. While outside, some of the poorest of the poor scream and yell at each other, fighting over garbage and most likely the crazy lady's pitiful dog and kittens. I am very aware of the incongruity of it all. I wish there were simple answers to these problems. I could sit here and feel guilty and horrible, or I can continue to pray for that woman (she really does have severe mental problems) and work in the areas God has called us to work. I cannot help her, other than being friendly when I see here, and making sure that when I throw out 'good food,' it is wrapped up so she can use it when she digs it out of the dumpster.

We walk a fine line so often here. Life, both the good and the bad, is so 'in your face' all the time.