Month: September 2018

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Jolly Again

I wore this shirt sarcastically a few days ago, when I wasn’t grumpy. Today, I was grumpy, so I wore it sorta seriously. Note that I typed WAS grumpy. I allowed the computer/website/ Facebook issues to let me commit small tirades for a day. (I’m letting the SWWTRN silent text alert just be what it is.) Enough is enough. The glitches have now been figured out. Not fixed yet, but figured out.

Before I explain what we found out about our technology  problem, I have to say this about being grumpy: It’s almost impossible to be grumpy when you’re concentrating on others– especially when you’re helping others. Tie o’ the Day reminds me that I think grumpiness results when we think we– and the difficulties we’re going through– are the center of all universes. Believe me, it is not all about you. Or me. It’s good to vent, but it’s not good to wallow. Wallowing creates stagnation, and stagnation creates rot. When you’re ticked off or frustrated, feel your feelings for a while, then go assist somebody with something they need. You’ll cheer up. And you’ll be a better person.

Regarding the photo non-upload issue, Suzanne worked mightily. Suzanne worked for hours. Suzanne fixed many things. Suzanne ran virus protection. Suzanne got rid of a billion spam-y emails I never opened. Suzanne won.

What Suzanne did not do is fix the issue I was having. But she couldn’t, because the issue was our WiFi. At some point during Suzanne’s troubleshooting of the problem, I– and my explosions of grump– decided it would be a good idea to get out of the house. Nothing else was fixing the problem, I decided to indulge my new theory that the problem might have something to do with our prehistoric WiFi. I wish we’d thought of it sooner.

Anyhoo… I tested the theory by putting on my Grumpy shirt and heading down the road to Starbucks, where I could try to accomplish my www goals on their WiFi. Voila! Everything worked niftily. We’ll be upgrading our internet service ASAP. Simple as that. (Famous last words, eh?)

I felt like I should at least buy a cup o’ coffee at Starbucks, since I was using their WiFi. It just seemed polite. But I don’t drink coffee. And when I drove back home, I realized I would have to change clothes because I reeked of coffee, and the smell would stick to me the entire day. I was okay in Starbucks, but…   It’s not because I hate the smell of coffee. Actually, the smell of coffee reminds me of Dad. But sometimes I just can’t handle thinking of that sweet man for longer than a few minutes. 🤗 💜

 

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And Pretend This Is A Title

 

There’s nothing to look at here.

Tie o’ the Day and I have discovered we’re magic. We can post a picture on our website, and it will post everywhere in the universe– except on the website and Facebook. I can no longer put photos into my site’s media library. Suzanne and I spent a big hunk o’ yesterday troubleshooting my technology speed bumps– which means Suzanne tried to find the problem and fix it, while I wept, wailed, railed, and carried around a few balloons for the pity party I was having.

[I cannot sufficiently convey to you how big a deal TIE O’ THE DAY is to me. It’s medicine to my far-too-dark brain. The idea of creating it gets me and my bipolar brain out of bed some days. It’s an hour of holiday from the routine– twice a day. I need this website kink remedied ASAP.]

I am a patient person–except when it comes to stuff that “breaks” when nobody did anything to it. I changed no settings on the website. The site was not hacked. I didn’t touch any buttons that I don’t normally touch. And Suzanne will tell you that I am such a technotard that I make sure I touch as few buttons as I absolutely have to. I did nothing different from usual, and now my beloved www.tie-o-the-day.com will not let me upload photos, for some still undiagnosed reason.

This website snafu comes on the heels of last week’s, Silent Text Alert Issue. I kept not-hearing text alerts from my Sister Who Wishes To Remain Nameless. I thought my hearing aid might have been on the fritz, but I could hear every noise in the house. Heck, I could hear Skitter’s back tooth decaying.

Seriously, I can hear every rinky-dink alert and sound on my phone– except text alerts from my SWWTRN. I can hear the flippin’ iPhone breathe! But I can’t hear the text alert I assigned to my SWWTRN. And believe me, I chose her personal alert to be overly loud and annoyingly obnoxious, so I’ll never miss a single one of her texts. I have tried to fix it, but according to the phone itself, everything is working a-ok. And get this– I chose the same alert sound to announce her phone calls, and I hear it loud and oh-so clear when she calls. (Yes, I’ve tried other sounds. No text alert sound attached to her contact can be heard.)

When I couldn’t fix my text alert issue, I threw my signature ticked-off party, my woe-is-me party. Sometimes I even throw my I’m-stoopid-cuz-I-can’t-figure-this-out party. Believe me, I can throw ill-tempered parties. And frankly, my parties generally happen because of technology– whether I understand the technology or not. Inevitably, Suzanne rides in on the Horse o’ Level-headedness and conquers The Beast o’ Techno Glitches. Suzanne always wins.

But she hasn’t finished off these two problems yet, as of this morning. Since neither the website nor the phone text malfunctions are completely solved, guess what Suzanne will be doing for Labor Day? And you know dang well I’ll be partying. I’ll be enjoying my pity party like it’s 1999. Along with the balloons, I’ll bring some cheese to go along with the barrels o’ whine I bring to my party. Feel free to stop by for the shindig.

 

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The Flannel Is Coming! The Flannel Is Coming!

So I’m resting up in the living room, reclining and snoozing and basically doing absolutely nothing except minding my p’s and q’s. Skitter and cockatoo Tie o’ the Day are doing the same bunch of nothin’ with me. You see, Suzanne and I go on vacation in less than a week, and I am paranoid that if I do anything interesting, I’ll tweak my insides somehow and the doctor will tell me I can’t fly anywhere yet. Anyhoo… We’re being lazy, and TOOT, TOOT, TOOT! It’s a text from Suzanne, who needed to get away from me and my lackadaisical self for a while. Of course, I know where she went to escape me. Yup, back to JOANN’S for more of FLANNELRAMA!

The text she just sent me said, “I’m going crazy with fabric. Don’t be mad.😱” Yes, with that exact emoji.

Here’s what I should text back to her: “Now let me get this straight, Suzanne. Do you know who I am? I own at least 1000 ties and bow ties. And you think I might be upset if you buy yards and scads of flannel? Did someone hit you in the head with one of those bolts of fabric? I wouldn’t be mad at you even if you bought out the whole store.”

But I’m not texting her a text with that many words. If she had to read something even that long, it would cut into her JOANN’s time– and into her Helen-free time. I’m texting simply, “I’m not mad.💝” I know from past experience that her trips to JOANN’s take 2 or 3 hours. I kid you not. And if I text her the longer response from above, it will add another half-hour to her shopping excursion– because it will cause her to lose her place in the plethora of sewing ideas listed in her head. She’ll waste time trying to decide if my text was passive-aggresive or sarcastic, or both. Hint: My texts are always sarcastic. Every breath I take is sarcastic.

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Magnets, Hair Clips, And Glue

Bow Tie o’ the Day is not only made of wood, and imprinted with tiny bow ties, it actually attaches to the shirt with a magnet. I simply pull its two magnets apart, put Bow Tie itself where I want it to be, then put the second magnet right behind it inside the shirt. This is the only bow tie I have that uses this method of attachment. Inventive. Kinda cool.

Bow Tie and I found ourself in the Aisle o’ Hairs Accessories. In case I haven’t griped about it enough, let me gripe in all-caps. I CAN’T STAND GROWING OUT MY HAIR! AND I BLAME Y’ALL! There. I’ve vented. I’m okay now.

Growing out my hairs wouldn’t be as bad if I hadn’t started doing it while I had an asymmetrical cut. Left side, long. Right side, shaved. This makes it constantly look more awkward than the usual I’m-growing-out-my-hairs awkward stages. Please don’t suggest possible hairstyles. I do not “do” my hairs. I just won’t. If I can’t just wash and wear it, I put a hat on it. Luckily, I like hats. And I like doo rags. Now I’m trying out hair clips.

And that’s how we ended up in the Aisle o’ Hairs Accessories. Oh, so many clippy choices for keeping my hairs out of my eyes! The bright, amusing-looking clips all seem to be for little girls, but they aren’t long enough to do the job well. Do grown women not like to have happy hair clips? Women’s clips are sorta la-dee-da. I split the difference: I got the least standy-outy women’s clips I could find AND I got some colorful little girl clips. Between the two sizes, I hope I can work something out. In fact, upon showing Suzanne my new hairs treasures, I ordered her to go immediately to her craft room to find her glue gun. I know she can glue some clips together into wearable clip sculptures worthy of clash fashion and bow ties. 👒