Karyn and I both disabled our archives years ago, so now in looking for throwback posts on the Wayback Machine, I’m running across material I haven’t seen in more than a decade.
I do have all my old posts archived on my Mac. However, after we moved last year, I lost having my own office, so I didn’t have anywhere to set up that monster until I carved out a section of the basement to house my office furniture.
When Fletch bought me the Mac years ago, he assumed I would like the jumbo sized screen. He assumed wrong. The monitor was—and still is—so big that it blocked out all my peripheral vision. It literally eclipsed my view of anything but the monitor. Using it felt like sitting in the front row of a movie theater and it gave me low-key anxiety due to its bigness. I always hated it, so when we moved, I just started using a laptop with a normal-sized screen and I didn’t miss it.
After I finally found a place for the Mac in the basement, it took me another six months to find the power cord. That’s because as the date when our movers would arrive drew ever closer, I found I’d spent far too much care/precision boxing up my china cabinet, so that my packing strategy for the other 98% of the house quickly morphed into “just throw shit into anything that looks like cardboard.”
Anyway.
It should come as no surprise that I have forgotten my Mac login information, so those posts are still inaccessible, hence using the Wayback Machine. Fletch is diligent about setting up password managers on all our devices, but the problem with password managers is that I also forget that password and it makes him apoplectic. I used to think my inability to recall a password would eventually cause our divorce, but now I suspect it’s just going to kill him instead. And this is unfortunate, because I still really enjoy his company.
So, here’s a random post I’ve taken from the Wayback Machine, originally from 2006. My 2023 commentary is in italics, because everyone loves context.
Here we go:
December 11, 2006
9:43 AM
When In Doubt, List It Out
Things you should know about my past three weeks but I’m too lazy to put in paragraph form:
Did not grow out of the lazy, apparently.
Although I’ve ignored the blog, I’ve been busy writing – I just finished about sixty pages of another project. (Details TK if/when the time is right.)
No idea what the project was. Did I ever give details? Was the time ever right? Considering I’ve published, like, sixteen more books since then, I suspect I did.
When I haven’t been writing, I’ve been fighting with my internet connection. For some reason that Fletch explained and I can’t grasp, my wireless connection has to be routed to bounce off his company’s servers and frequently doesn’t because of blah blah blah in the blah blah blah, words words words, angry Jen. Bottom line, my lack of connectivity has to do with how his company’s network is administered.
This tracks. Also, I am offended by my use of the double-space after a sentence now. See? Old dogs can learn new tricks.
Said network administrator likes to draw pictures of himself as a Japanese anime character with arrows piercing his heart, for he is so emo. This makes me laugh A LOT, for I am a meanie.
I wish I remembered this, but again, it tracks. Not sure why I thought in reading old diary entries about myself, I wouldn’t sound like myself. I never stopped being me, I guess.
I saw said network administrator at Fletch’s company Christmas party and I wanted to beat him up for his lunch money.
I'd have won, too.
Again, this all tracks.
While we were at the party, I accidentally nailed one of Fletch’s superiors in the crotch with my giant satchel handbag. In retrospect, I should have bought a bottle of wine to bring to the second party along the way instead of simply shoving one I already had in my purse, thus turning it into a military-grade battering ram.
Whoops.
Awkward jokes about “hitting someone’s Yule log at the Christmas party” are appreciated by no one but me.
This still makes me laugh.
Fletch should probably find a new job.
He did.
Soon.
Not long after this. I think he might have been laid off first, not sure. Whatever. We must have figured it out. The Mac probably knows what happened.
We left the party early to grab a drink before the second party.
I’m pretty sure I was the only one at the Four Seasons in a Target coat.
And I’ve yet to learn that sashimi is not good drunk food.
The older I get, the less I realize I’ve learned. Also, the coat was a swingy pink tapestry with a faux fur collar and it was FABULOUS. I have been haunting Poshmark to find another one, but no luck thus far. Where is the one I used to own? That secret is probably locked in my Mac.
We didn’t die OR get exploded because of the since repaired gas leak in my house. Yay, us!
Zero recollection, even though it sounds like kind of a big deal. Do gas leaks cause memory loss?
We celebrated by getting On-Demand cable. (Yes, Comcast is much improved since the days of my sending them a cancellation notice telling them I hope they die sliding under a gas truck, tasting their own blood.)
I miss Sam Kinison.
Same, 2006 Jen. Same.
Comcast On-Demand has a cache of The Real World Denver and The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I am at least fifteen years too old to be watching either of these programs… yet here I am.
Same, 2006 Jen. Same. Well, not specifically these shows, but the fact that I just finished Perfect Match on Netflix tells me that my penchant for lowest-common-denominator reality has not waned.
Finally, I may or may not have created a fake homeowner’s association in order to send the folks next door helpful suggestions, e.g. “A cylinder of Morton’s salt is not the new ‘shoveling.’ Clear your sidewalk or fines will be assessed.”
I said what I said.
The End.
Maybe going through my old writing will prompt me to remember what my Mac password was.
But probably not.