We’ve been in the market for a new computer for Gerry. A desktop. Kinda old school, but not. Remember when desktops (or towers, as they were sometimes called) were the only option? I bought my first one back in the 1980s when I was in college learning programming and that workhorse served me for a long time.
I haven’t paid attention to the market, but somewhere along the line the move toward laptops and portability shifted back toward desktops. Or maybe that’s just because of gaming. I don’t know. I do know that desktops are more upgradeable than laptops and, as this will probably be the last computer Gerry gets, that’s a plus. (It’s strange, but we’ve reached the stage of life where we talk about things in terms of being the last ones. I.e. our last house, car, computer etc.)
The sheer volume of acronyms one has to wade through in the computer world is mind-boggling. I just don’t have the mental capacity or desire to learn what it all means and how much of everything we need for our purposes. (I say our because, while this will be Gerry’s computer, I plan to use it for photo post processing since my trusty MacBook is for writing and doesn’t have the capacity to run the photography software we need.)
So, we found a guy.
I’ve come to believe that all people of a certain age need a guy, or a technology-savvy family member, in order to navigate this brave new world. Our guy took our specs and is putting together what we need. The new addition is expected to be ready within the week. I’m excited. Also apprehensive. We haven’t used the new version of Windows and I expect there will be a learning curve (for one of us more than the other).
In other news, this morning, after he came home from the gym, Gerry sat down on the floor in the living room to play with Molly who was over-the-moon excited to see him (you’ve gotta love a Yorkie’s enthusiasm!). I sat down on the loveseat and twisted my back in the process. Seriously. By sitting down on the loveseat. I’m hunkered down in my woman cave with a heating pad at the moment, hoping for respite. They say getting old isn’t for sissies. I believe it.
This too shall pass.