Two weeks ago, my love-hate relationship with computers devolved into loathe-hate. I emailed a column, and my editor didnât receive it. I checked âSent,â and that file had disappeared.
After weeks of rain, I wondered if Zeus, the Greek storm god, zapped a lightning bolt at my laptop from his perch on Mount Olympus just for fun. More than Yahoo acted hinky. I had a ghost in my machineâconsciousness carried in a physical entityâper the description of philosopher Rene Descartes.
The physical entity was âbuffering.â When I tried to stream, I got the visual annoyance of a spinning circle. I had someone empty my cache, pronounced âcashâ and not to be confused with âcachet,â which means prestige. Buffering persisted.
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