I am so sorry I have been away from you. My computer has a virus and I am writing to you on a borrowed laptop.
I was doing some online research, and no, it didn't involve porn, and I clicked on a Web site. A box popped up on my screen that said my computer had seven viruses and to click the RUN box if I wanted PC Care to rid my computer of the viruses.
Fool that I am, I clicked the damn run box and it gave me a virus called PC Care that disabled my actual anti-virus software and prohibited downloading anything else that could kill a virus. After that, more and more boxes kept popping up, each one telling me that I had more and more viruses. A smaller box said that someone was trying to steal my identity.
The worst box squealed like a pig.
After spending three hours on the telephone with two different virus killing experts, I was told to take the computer to a local repair shop, which I did on Saturday. I paid for a 3 - 5 day diagnosis and treatment if possible.
I haven't heard anything from the shop, which I think of as the Computer Hospital, so I guess I'll call them tomorrow.
Or, maybe I'll stop by. The young man who was working there was pretty darn cute. I may be old, but I'm not dead.
For now, let us pray: Oh dear God of Computers, please bring my PC back to me healthy and whole. I beg of you, do not send my beloved to the Great Computer Recycling Center in the sky. And forgive me for that which I did not back up.
Mea Culpa Mea Culpa Mea Culpa
Dumped First Wife
I mentioned that I think of the repair shop as the Computer Hospital. I remember when I was a kid there was a Doll Hospital in a town near where we lived. We took my Chatty Cathy there to try to have her repaired. They said they couldn't do it. They let Chatty Cathy die.
I wonder if my mom paid them to do that so she wouldn't have to listen to any more of Cathy's back talk. "You don't back talk me ole girl," she used to say.
Ha! She taught big-mouth Chatty Cathy a lesson. Back talk my mom and you died.