I just spent an hour yelling at my computer.  I'm sure the mailman got an earful when he dropped the letters off.  Right now I'm plotting its demise because I HATE IT.  It makes me swear.  It raises my blood pressure.  It steals my afternoons.  And it freezes at the worst, THE WORST times.

I was having a perfectly lovely day.  I had taught the math.  Loved the children.  Baked the cake.  Sat on the couch with the fancy latte drink and then boom.  Computer strikes again.  All of a sudden the world is a terrible place.  I'm feeling more angry than I've ever felt.  I'm yelling at the Christmas tree.  I'm punching the cute couch pillows.  I'm looking for things to throw.

I'm a monster.

And the computer is just sitting there with its spinning blue swirl where the pointer should be, its (not responding) message where my word document title should be, and it's not even making a noise.  This machine isn't even trying.  There is no whirring.  There is no clicking.  The computer doesn't care about my threats.  Doesn't seem to mind that I'm picturing my pen through its screen and my fist in its mother of boards.

This thing is a cold, nonchalant jerk.  And I want to make it pay.

So I delete a few programs and that makes me feel a little better.  Take that, computer.  I send tantrum texts to husband.  Hmph!  On the third restart, things start responding.  And slowly, my face goes from red to just blotchy.  I put the pillows back on the couch.  Smile at the tree.  And now I'm here telling myself This is why it's important to go to the gym every day.  You're too bottled, geeez girl. 

And the sly thing has won once again.