COMPUTER LOSES, CLUTTER WINS
Will this pen ever write again? I found a scrap of paper on the ground. I wiped the tip on a leaf and, to my disbelief, it could \write.
A miracle of modern science, this simple writing appliance still filled with ink in a blink responded to my test. I shrugged and put it in the pocket of my shirt. It couldn't hurt to have a pen. I had to use one now and then. To
write a note, jot an address, make a mark next to "Yes" or "No" on an application for a vacation deal I never bought.
So my name and address and other detailed info more or less remained unmailed in my desk drawer. Wasn't that what cluttered desk drawers were for? Abandoned dreams, unlikely schemes, ideas that seemed important at the time, in retrospect weren't worth a dime. So I tossed the pen in the drawer. It soon got lost among the scrap and all the crap collected by an absentminded mind,
One day I found the pen again and decided to throw it away and join the computer generation. That miracle machine would be my salvation and spare me the frustration of a drawer so filled with this and that I seldom knew where I was at. I'd clean it out, starting with the pen and the computer would let me start all over again.
I went to the electronics store and told the clerk what I wanted the computer for. "Easy," he said, "just watch me." With mouse in hand and one quick click, he showed me how to organize. I could not believe my eyes. I learned a lot. I bought. I took the set and plugged it in, turned it on. The screen turned green. A welcome message filled the screen. No sweat. How easy could it get? I'll soon be surfing the Internet.
I took the mouse and clicked. Boy! This is fun! Then, I clicked again. The screen went black. I couldn't get the message back. Squiggly lines. Dashes, dots. Funny spots. Erratic static. Grunts and groans. Mechanical moans. I punched more keys. I think I heard the damn thing sneeze. Must be a virus. Must be sick. Click, click, click! Flashing, dashing little darts. Stops and starts, Big fat farts. Then it sighed and died. I couldn't resuscitate it. I hate it!
Thank God for the warranty. They gave my money back to me. I filled my drawer with brand new clutter. Not a flutter or a stutter. no dashes, dots or funny spots. Paper here and paper there. Rummage, rummage everywhere. Look and look. A note I wrote. I can't find it. I don't mind it. Even my trusty, rusty pen is happy to be home again.