Calling Loyalty Into Question: Jelly, Hats, and Cookies

Yesterday Pan (my laptop) and I started the day in a state of uneasy truce. He would not explode and I would refrain from yelling at him. Given that’s the way things were before the recent madness I didn’t think I’d have any trouble holding up my side of the bargain.

And then he had himself kidnapped.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking. No, he wasn’t stolen. Kidnapped. And Pan was behind it. He orchestrated the entire thing. I walked away and when I came back there was a note with a ransom demand.

Now, I don’t know about you but I think when your own laptop resorts to blackmailing you things have reached a fairly low point.
I refused to pay. You can’t negotiate in these situations. I tracked him down and brought him home. He sulked and refused to admit he’d behind it. His accomplice made a series of unconvincing statements of innocence. I ignored them both.

This seemed for the best. Asking Paul to explain his thought process is like wading through jelly — something we also spent some time discussing last night. I mean, Why did you go along with the dastardly schemes and machinations of my laptop? is a rather fraught question. And even if the answer was as simple as, He offered to share the cookies, actually getting to that answer could be tricky. I mean, I asked Paul what he wanted for dinner last night and it went like this:

Me: Did you have a thought or a plan or a concept?
Paul S: Yes.
Me: Good. What was it?
Paul S: People should wear more hats.
Rick: And fezzes. Fezzes are cool.
Paul S: Are fezzes hats?
Me: Totally hats.
Paul S: I think people should not allow themselves to be distracted from the fundamental questions of the universe. And not enough hats.

So, you know, people — hats. Maybe Pan promised he’d start wearing one. I don’t know. Pan himself attempted an expression of lofty disdain and acted like nothing had ever happened. Firefox was not so kind. It just sat there looking harmless and functional and everything. Until I tried to actually do something with it. At which point it killed itself.

Seriously. It’s was like, “You’re looking at me? You’re actually looking at me right now? Cool. Watch this. I’m going to commit ritualised suicide.”

Which was, you know, a little startling.

A number of concerned citizens then cried, Chrome! So I demonstrated the way that Pan refused to do that — to their bemusement. So Rick downloaded it for me and transferred it across the network. I opened it up, poked it a bit, and realised, in some despair that I’m a Firefox girl. I need pinned tabs and tab groups and… and… I don’t want to change browsers.

I’m hoping that this declaration of loyalty will change the way Firefox is feeling about things. Maybe we can find a way to get along? Otherwise, I guess, Chrome is waiting. It’s just sitting there in my applications folder, ready to pick up the ball and run with it.

I’m just hoping it won’t come to that.