That horrible, eardrum shattering, twisted metal, nails on a chalkboard screech you just heard was the world shuttering to a halt.
I cannot connect to the internet. (For the record, I am posting this from Dad’s computer.)
Last night, I upgraded to Windows 10.
Just to be clear, I know that Technology and I do not exactly have the greatest of all relationships. I know that I am capable of shutting down HAL-sized machines just by being part of the same universe. And I know that one does not instantly run out and adopt the latest and greatest new operating system; one waits for the bugs to be discovered and corrected. Especially if One is Me.
I did not try to adopt Windows 10 the instant it was offered. I waited patiently. (No, seriously, I was patient. It was not a matter of Great Interest to me.) I watched others, I read reviews, I talked to Knowledgeable People, and mostly I waited.
When the aforementioned Knowledgeable People indicated the coast was clear, the bugs were zapped, and the upgrade was safe, I still waited.
Finally, last night I thought, What the heck.
Let me tell you, what-the-heck.
Not only does the upgrade take about 17 hours (during which I made soup, cleaned out three cabinets, and watched reruns of Burn Notice), it requires you to shut down and restart several many times.
No problem. Burn Notice.
But then—and this, my dear child is where things went Oh, So Terribly Wrong—my lovely, darling sweet computer turned into a stubborn hunk of metal.
It simply refused to connect to the internet.
Shut down. Restart.
Click all the Let-Me-Help-You buttons. They require an internet connection. ARRRRG!
Twelve hours later, I have not resolved the problem.
I am not, just in case you were confused about the matter, a happy camper.