What is it about kids that can make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches seem like such a simple, painless snack option when it’s in your head, but in fact turn out to be the equivalent of putting several tubs of brightly-color-swirled putty in a commercial mixer and running it on high with the guard off?
Okay, so they didn’t actually get it on the ceiling. But they did get it all over the table. And the floor. And a wall (and not just any wall, but a wall on an entirely different floor than the sandwiches were eaten). Oh, and the chairs, their rear-ends, their sneakers, their faces, their hands and lord knows where else. I quit looking after the rear-end fiasco.
I admit defeat and bow before the strategic pb&j stylings of the homework club gang. Impressive.
BTW, I am now on my third donated computer (the first one was loaded with enough ancient software that it could technically be considered Amish, and the second one was previously run off a network and needed to be reformatted and repartitioned in order to clear up enough available disk space to kick out a floppy without blowing the back cover off). Today, the third machine was dropped off and, after hooking it up, I hit the starter and waited for whatever section of hell that was on call today to break loose. It’s a step up (we’ve moved on from ME to Win2000), but unfortunately I can’t even tell you the extent of it’s disk space, since the admin account is password protected and…wait for it…no one knows the password.
I guess I’m going to have to track down one of those “get into Windows without a password” hack’niques on the interweebs. I’m beginning to feel like I’m in some sort of Last Man on Earth Twilight Zone episode, where I’m the last geek on Earth and have all the computers I can desire, only they’re all missing some key component that makes them functional.