Printer drivers are the curse of the not very concerned with the practical details of the media nation.
I sort-of know that they are important and I always tell myself that I will, this time, look after the disc so that we have a fall-back replacement when disaster strikes just as you need the printer most.
I blame, I have to admit, Toni for the loss of the disc for the new machine.
If he wasn’t so curmudgeonly about putting “everything in his place” (sic) then I wouldn’t have “tidied” and the disc would still be safe protected from loss by being part of the organic miasma which is my filing system. But that was not to be and now the disc is truly lost. I say truly lost because I have searched for it in all the places that it could reasonably and surrealistically impossibly be.
The old expression that the more you look the more it isn’t there certainly seemed accurate. I did come across a variety of interesting things including a series of enamelled magnetic bookmarks which I either bought for my Aunt Betty or she bought for me. They had not been taken out of their packaging and I fear that they have now descended even deeper into the maelstrom of sheer thingness that comprises the materialistic fog in which I wrap myself.
I have a vague feeling I know where they might be as I review in my mind the kaleidoscope of possessions which I have riffled my way through in the Great Search for the Lost Driver – but I lack the determination or inclination to put my suspicions to the test.
The major “find” however was the rogue Apple Nano which I have been without for a considerable number of months. Whose “loss” I compensated for by pretending that it had never existed.
The improvised plastic case I used to enclose this small machine and give it the obvious bulk which should have stopped its falling into obscurity was found lodged securely in the top moulding of a rarely used electric fan which was itself placed “usefully” behind a rarely moved set of drawers.
The machine was, not unexpectedly, fully drained of power, but this is as nothing to someone whose armchair is constantly surrounded by a swarming nest of viper-like power cables giving one the appearance of one of the more vicious Hindu gods on a serpentine throne!
Powered up, I set it to play and was rewarded with one of my characteristically effortlessly pretentious sequences of music of composers whose names are not only too difficult to spell but also take up too much time deciding which from of approximate western spelling to use. It was a real “welcome home” moment which I always get when the programme governing the selection is set to “song” so the jarring juxtapositions are deliciously violent!
I intend to sample more musical moments on the Third Floor where the sunshine is sending out its siren call for me to prostate myself like the devout worshiper I am. The Spiritual Exercise I do as I lie there is to try not to think about my colleagues who will be slaving away in front of fresh-faced and eager children anxious to imbibe all the knowledge they can before expressing their gratitude for the privilege of being taught by such selfless professionals.
I think that even Loyola would have problems with that particular religious task – and I am afraid that I am very much with Saint Augustine in his opinions (mostly quoted out of context) on things like chastity and faith to have a very lively prospect of my own person success - especially if a Father of the Church found the going hard!