They say we bring our problems on ourselves, or something like that. Was I so desperate to avoid writing last night that I trashed my computer? I decided to install the OpenOffice update that’s been nagging me for weeks. That shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes… It shouldn’t. It didn’t. What took more than the couple of minutes was the melt-down. The upgrade to 3.2 wouldn’t install. “No changes have been made to your system.”

They lied. Now 3.1 didn’t work. System Restore didn’t restore it, not even when I went back two weeks. Without OpenOffice on the laptop I’m using to work on this project, I’m dead in the water.

Morning came. I won’t bore you with details, but after googling (I’m making an aribtrary editorial decision that when used as a verb, google is not capitalized) the error message a couple of times to fine tune it, I found a trail to a Windows system file that was causing the problem and learned how to obtain permissions (this is truly arcane friends) to rename this file. That did the trick. The upgrade slid right in, in less than two minutes. Problem solved.

The bonus is that I now know how to get permission to do brain surgery on my ‘puter, and feel a certain euphoria for having solved the problem.

But my story is still not written. I’ll get there. I suppose in the account of this memoir writing process, the current event is a Tension Event.

There’s a lot to be said for writing by hand, on paper, with a pen or pencil. It may be faster in the end, when you factor in all the technical garbage and distractions we now deal with as part of the “modern” writing process.