The story of Trailblazer Tom, odd bits.

It’s Sunday. I’ve spent this morning not sleeping and planning this blog. But let’s go bacj to Wednesday. That’s when my e-mail from Toshiba had my new laptop out of China, Alaska and the Midwest. It was due at Windsor Locks CT. I waited. The next morning I checked the e-mail again. Nothing. That night I found out an attempt had been made to deliver the package. Friday, package due a 4:30 pm. Nothing. I called Fedex. They said they had a problem with the label. Okay, I’ll pick it up. First they’ll send it to their Newington CT store. I get the number and call. Bad news. I might not be able to have it until Monday. That’s not good. I can be patient, but when it comes to mail, packages and assorted stuff like that I get, shall I say, a tad anxious. More phone calls and they’ll hold the package at Windsor Locks. I get an address and directions. I’m on-line again Yahooing Fedex. Get a map and step by step directions. I go to Google maps. Some help. An aside: It would help finding addresses if the lines demarcating the route weren’t so thick. I’ve got the instructions written down, in red pen, on lined paper. It is about this point that I notice that I’m talking slowly, through clenched teeth to the people I’ve been chatting with. Apologies are due. Saturday morning, Hot shower, breakfast, a check of e-mail. The package is there, waiting. I as antsy as a sixteen-year old who’s Black Sheep Uncle Mike just led him through the doors of a cathouse for the first time. Another aside: My elder niece lives six miles away from me. The route entails getting on a state highway and following it to its end and making two right turns. I gone five times, three times with the Murph and twice alone. I got lost twice. Guess when? Most of the time I follow routes well established. It gets down to muscle memory. And getting lost kills time. I’m dressed and checkig the outside temps. Waiting, watching kid’s TV. Working on a blog on how kid’s TV is turning them stupid. The Fedex temimal is open nine to five, no sweat. I saddle up and hit the road. I’ve scratched off five items on the instructions because they basically tell me how to get on I-84. I know that. This is where I should have begun to notice that the escapade was heading for the flusher. I missed the turn-off for I-84E. Not a middle-aged moment, bad vision or anything else. That turn-off led to a merge on CT9. I’ve done it. It’s like begging to be killed because you can’t decide how to commit suicide. A direct access to I84E is just down the road. It’s ignored because you have to run a gauntlet of traffic lights and fractious drivers. I get on I-84 and head for the exit onto I-91N. I’ve passed it or used it more than a few times. I position in the right lane and drive on. I catch the I-91 exit and check the exit I’ll take. I’ve got the name and number. I find it and turn off. An aside: The FEdex terminal is visible from the street, hell, it’s visible from space. I drive past. I can’t see the street sign. Or the building. I cruise down the road I’m on looking for signs of a huge warehouse. After about a half hour I begin to realize I’m totally lost. I’m looking for a place to get directions. I wind up in the parking lot of Flying Fur Pet Groomers.(A fine establishment). The young lady at the desk consults the computer and then a co-worker. They give me directions. Knowing me, I ask for them to be written down, please. Out on the street and heading in the direction back to my origins. I didn’t know Granby CT was that close to Windsor Locks or that the citizens of Granby, especially the counter woman at Dunkin’ Donuts, don’t know a lot about Windsor Locks. Turnarounds in deserted drive-in resturaunts and a stop at a generic hardware store. The man behind the counter was a stereotype and didn’t know it. What he did know was how to set my out-of-town ass on the straight and narrow. I find the terminal. It’s a long way off. Bradley Intl. is bigger than i thought. I show ID and my package is brought out. I look at the shipping label. Name: N/A, Address: Street number, City, zip: correct. This is not the shipping label that Toshiba showed me in their e-mail. It’s 12:30 pm. The ride back is uneventful. I let the package sit. I checked e-mail and did puzzles. Watched TV and vegged until about 6:30. I unwrap the package. The computer is beautiful. Bigger displat etc. Read the instructions (That’s something new) and hook up power and internet. Get a lovely first page. Enter e-mail and password. My password varies but I keep them rated “Strong”. This one has twelve characters and it’s easy for me to remember. I enter the password. Remember this. I’m led to Homepage and I try for e-mail. Type in e-mail address and password. The computer won’t accept password. Try again, actually about ten times. Click “Recover Password”. New site and they want my Microsoft account number. Do I have one? If I don’t whre do I get one? The only way to access the site to do this requires e-mail address and password. I suffered a shitload of rejection. Searches don’t get me no satis-fac-tion. Wind up on a “Click here for help site.” The Toshiba is diagnosed and it’s determined that a tech can handle the problem. I talk to the nice lady, get a tech and find out he can’t do squat and will check it out and call me in thirty minutes. He didn’t. I get back to the nice lady and she tells me he’ll call tommorrow. (He has.) Meanwhile I vent about my present comuter. They offer to roto-router the computer out and settle issues I’ve been having. Now would be a good time to tell you that the lower task bar, once locked in sites unaccessable and unremovable is clear. The cursor still acts like it has Parkinson’s (no offense) and getting to NYT crooswords is a matter of picking out the correct favorite, the one on the Favorites bar or the one that the computer saved. (Went to Seattle Times) Getting the puzzle is stressinducing. Seems they don’t believe I’ve got an account. Another thing, seemingly unrelated. I’ve had problems falling asleep. My clinician has moved on and the new one, a Yale grad, tells me one of my perscriptions causes racing thougts. She takes me off and gives me a new perscription. I was taking both at the same time, the old one decreasing, the new one increasing. I forgot to take the meds on Saturday night. Hence I’m awake at 6:00am. I’ve tlked to Microsoft and for good reason they won’t reveal my account number or let me change the password. They’ve pointed me toward Toshiba. I’m awaiting a callback. That won’t happen because I’m planning to call them as they’ve had enough time. Two things are fixed firmly in my mind: 1) The computer will be fixed and on-line tonight 2) They’re doing it on-line because I’m not shipping my new laptop back to China. Another small point: There’s a residue of stress and hostility remaining from the lead-up to this morning.

February 3rd, The Day the Music Died”

Gertude Stein: A writer is a writer is a writer is unknown to most except for great mots.

See you later. I’m off to call Toshiba. Will post results.