Me and the postal person
I felt like I hit the parcel jackpot this afternoon. After picking up a cylinder containing fifteen pairs of scissors at work (destined for a group of scrapbooking students that I’ll never meet), I got home to my trusty Superbox to find even more booty.
You see, I now buy online. Unseen, untouched, not even a proper catalogue page to make decisions; I wade in and make promises to exchange virtual money with people I don’t know, who then send me stuff in the mail. A larger act of faith I can’t imagine. With several years of such commercial gambling, I haven’t been badly stung (yet). Oh, there was the DVD that was subtitled in Mandarin (which I don’t read), and the antique cereal bowl from a long ago passenger train which came in two pieces. And the pair of obsolete CD players that tend to turn off at the best moment in a song. And a USB networking cable that doesn’t really seem to do very much. But why quibble over details? Life is too short.
This afternoon brought me a new wireless router, which I hope to flash without bricking (those are technical terms to explain how geeks break stuff). As well, the new kid, IrishMoss (that I introduced yesterday) received a dongle to allow wired networking. That one was a spectacular tribute to the online trades, because the cost was very reasonable and it arrived by surface mail from somewhere near Boston in only four days. I am impressed by these postal types. I am impressed by small companies that deliver what they promise.
This evening I’m immersed in the wiki that explains how the OLPC product can be hacked into a wundermachine. I’m also juiced over italics, so please excuse me. It’s been one of those days, where things look better if you lean to the right.
