I could tell at once that something was terribly wrong with our home PC. My wife, who is usually so brilliant and unflappable, was suddenly flapped. "Mr. Computer, he doesn't look so good," she sobbed. She took a seat in the corner, hugging herself and rocking. The poor woman depends on the machine for her work and tends to take its periodic meltdowns hard. The children skittered nearby, cheerfully harassing Otto Quittner, our new puppy, ignoring the crisis in their midst. They knew Daddy would fix the PC.
Oh, how I longed for my trusty Macintosh! Macs are easier than...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
