So today, feeling confident and competent, and having previously shifted all my photos from Picasa on my old PC, where they were in semi-sensible folders, onto my external hard drive, I thought I'd import them into the Mac's iPhoto thingummy. There were thousands of them, thousands, and they kept on coming. I wasn't expecting such fantasy-horror legions of them: where were all these photos coming from? Had they been breeding inside the hard drive?
And once imported, there they all sat in an unsorted, undated, un-foldered, chaotic mass, like a giant break-your-spirit heap of straw waiting to be spun into gold, but by some twit who didn't have either the spinning wheel or the horrid Rumpelstiltskin to begin to tackle them. And it looked like most of them had been duplicated, perhaps more than once; in fact, that has to be the only explanation for why there were so many, even with my undisciplined approach to snapshot-taking. I stifled sobs; I couldn't work it out.
Later, I accidentally added myself as a Follower of my own blog. Follow? I live it, I blog it, I don't need to have it served up to me. Maybe I should take an evening class. Mac for Ninnies, like Windows for Dummies.
It's not all I've done, though; I'm not a complete would-be geek. I've knitted some scarf, and very unintentionally studenty it looks too (and the colour is all wrong in that photo), and I've read some more of Christopher Andrews' weighty but fascinating Defence of the Realm: The Authorised History of MI5. I've read some blogs, having a good laugh at some, I've made and shared (and eaten) some almond and cherry fairy cakes - well, you have to keep roofers happy - and I've dragged the dog out for little walks. It's a full and varied life here in Geeky Villas, you know.
The dog and I are going for dinner later with Lesley down the road; I shall take the knitting with me. We went shopping together for wool the other day, so we can compare scarves - I don't think she likes hers much either - and we can pretend that we are Madame Defarge and The Vengeance, 'knitting in' our enemies and waiting for their heads to roll. Such an aggressive and bloodthirsty occupation, knitting. Tomorrow, with revolutionary zeal, I might attempt to tackle the mountain of photos. Knit one, purl one, delete all!