There is no way around it, I'm a technological duffus. I can't figure out all the TV, VCR, DVD remotes, barely can figure out the DVR. The TV Guardian? Hah. If I ever want to hear a swear word I'll have to learn to read lips because I don't know how to change settings, I don't even know where it is among all the gadgets Phil has hooked up to the TV.
Today I was cleaning the kitchen--no, I'm still not done but I uncovered things that archaeologists would be excited to discover--and I wanted to listen to a Carol Tuttle CD while I worked--so I can shed my insecurities and become well adjusted. But I couldn't get the CD player to work.
One reason is the CD player has buttons with words so small only ants can read them. In my random button punching frenzy I opened and closed the CD door a few times, turned the radio on and off and punched the button I was sure should start my road to well adjustedness. Nothing.
I finally called the fixer of all my technological stupidity and he ejected the CD, took it out and said, "Here's your problem. What does that say?"
"DVD," I said.
He sighed. I slunk downstairs to choose another CD. I put it in. Punched buttons. Waited. I didn't particularly want to disturb him again because he was contemplating washing the windows and if there is anything I wanted today it is to see clearly outside before the darkness descends, but finally I had to call for help.
He ejected this CD looked at it and said a four letter word, "Crap," which is about as four letter as he gets. Then he sighed. Then he took it out and handed it to me and wordlessly pointed out the word "DVD."
I stuttered and stammered and finally realized I'd be better off just going away. Which I did.
He washed the windows. I learned to read. Not too bad for a know-it-all and a duffus.