My blog is misbehaving, and the only thing I can think to do to try to make it stop is to write another post. I have no idea why this seems the right thing to me, but it does.
But I wrote my best friend a super-long email tonight, and so I am pretty much all written out. And there isn’t anything fun or marvelous or strange to report right now. But it is bugging me beyond words that my website is down.
It won’t load when I try to load it. Can other people load it? I do not know. Perhaps you can tell me!
I only know that I am annoyed, and not amused. And also not feeling very creative under this kind of pressure. This kind of grumpy pressure. This pressure is grumpifying. It only makes me grumpy, is all.
Also, the university I am enrolled at for the fall — for grad school! — told me they had set up my email account, but when I try to log in it doesn’t recognize me. I am taking this as a comment. A derogatory comment. On my application essay. Or something. Maybe my hair. Which needs cutting.
Also, perhaps the university email knows I am feeling fat and out of shape lately.
And it couldn’t agree more.
C’mon, I gave you my tuition money — give me my email!
So I called the help desk and the lady there, she put me on hold for five minutes and then she gave me another phone number to call. But then she told me it was too late tonight to call that number. And that I should try back on Monday.
All of which was fine, except that an hour later I got an email (in my hotmail account) from this same lady saying that my problem had been “solved.” Solved! I opened up the email, and it was just this customer service wonky type “ticket” that was a record of the fact that I had called, what my customer service lady’s name was, and how she had “solved” my issue because she gave me a phone number.
And told me not to call it.
Technology and I are not speaking to each other today. We are sitting in adjacent rooms, sulking at each other. Sighing. Dramatically. At. Each. Other.
Technology is such a drama whore.