Computers. Really?

I work on a computer all day long. That doesn't exactly mean I know how to fix computers or make them do what I want them to do. This is shown by the cruel position I currently sit in. I am typing happily away on my personal laptop while my work laptop issued for an upcoming business trip (I love saying that, it makes me feel official.) sits next to me in silent rebellion to everything I try to make it do.

I am supposedly testing the wireless capabilities. I think the computer is testing the difference between me and an ape pounding on it's keyboard. I think the computer needs a name so I can feel guilty for hating it. Then maybe my attitude will change. Blackbeard seems appropriate. BB for short.

BB is supposed to willing talk to my home wireless network. Perhaps I should be glad the general public can't pirate my home network very easily since I, the owner, can't seem to pirate it. It gets humorous to the point of pain as I search the Internet for a picture of what my wireless adapter (only to be used if I can't get the wireless working) actually looks like installed in the little slot it is supposed to go into. Logic would say that it should slide into the slot till only the end plastic shows, all metal being hidden. But the slot doesn't let it go in that far and logic cannot always be applied to computer based endeavors.

So, I chose sanity over success, decided to write about something other than fiber adventures and feel much better for having vented all that into the stratosphere. Blackbeard and I will have a great trip. I know it. I just have to move past this and figure it out at work--or rather, have the computer guru at work figure it out.