A · Journal · I · Really · Don't · Have · Time · For

I've just ordered a new computer. I have never, repeat never, had to do anything about computers except use them. Trevor was involved in the industry from practically its inception in business, and then personal, life - ie the early 1970s - and he was always the expert. Now I'm forced to consider hard drives and RAM and other incomprehensible matters, and who knows if I've made the right decision. Caleb is, as usual, laid back, and says I can't go too far wrong. I certainly hope not, considering how much it's costing.

The young men (why no women?) in the computer shop were all polite, but I felt totally out of it when they were simultaneously talking on the phone and consulting their computer screens, while sipping drinks and managing asides to customers ("won't be too long" etc). They were surrounded by cables, screens, phones, keyboards, sticky notes, and bits of hardware that looked like they fell off a space rocket. It is so much not my scene that I have to assume they know what they are doing, and at least the place was recommended by two people I trust.

I suppose I should feel brave and forward looking and decisive, but it only emphasises the uneven balance of my life where everything is up to me - no-one to share the load with, no interplay of responsibilities. Goodness that sounds self-pitying - millions of people are in the same situation. Gues I'd better mark some more essays so as to pay for the new technology.