Once again, late at night, I take a break (from re-reading Saramago's Baltasar and Blimunda, in English of course), go upstairs, check my email, and end up involved in some technical wrangle.
Tonight I decided to install WordPress which I have in mind is somehow a better way to blog than this Blogger, maybe purer in its open sourceness? I've been meaning to start a real blog in January-- not just an edited journal, which is what's on my web page blog has been, and somehow I've never really gotten into using this Blogger although it works just fine. Anyhow, I spent an hour or so with Startlogic my overly technical web host and fooling with WordPress itself and got it set up, but of course all the energy went to setting it up. And even now, writing on my little Acer in order to focus on words instead of all the neat software I can use, I start thinking Oh, I suppose I could go there from this computer too right?
(And I did it, but refrained from actually writing there–refrained as in more not writing).
A whole word of dashboards and views and page sources and commands that do all kinds of things but of course my body gets tight, and it's all eyes. And then I remember I'm old almost and WTF, why am I trying to master this instead of reading leatherbound books in a woody study with french doors open to a lawn and birdsong?