Maybe I watched one too many squirrel videos, for something wicked this way came and sent my computer into a death spiral. Really, it was more of a splat. One minute my Granny Smith was in Sleep mode, the next she was dead as a doornail. When I pressed the On button, there was not even a flicker of light or sound. Just like that, she was gone.
I can’t say it was unexpected. There had been hints, like when I took her to the Apple Store Genius Bar back in the summer and they informed me that she was now an antique and they couldn’t work on her any more. Even knowing that, I hadn’t been backing up my data as diligently as I should, so while I was in mourning, I worried about how I’d transfer everything from Computer A to Computer B.
I went into my usual crisis mode–total inaction–for a week or two. Finally, Good Egg Son, who knows much about Macputers, walked me through the selection process online. Because we added some things, the order took about a week to arrive.
Wow! So light and thin. . .! It made GS feel downright clunky. I made an appointment at the Apple store for the next day, hoping they would be able to somehow mine my data from the bowels of the late Granny Smith. (Bowels being a good work for all the crap I had on there.)
That evening, I pushed the On button one last time and with a loud groan Granny managed to resurrect herself. She hadn’t been dead, only moribund! It wasn’t easy for her–the error message explaining why she’d gone under included three screen pages of gibberish which I took to mean WORK FAST!
I attached the Time Machine and left good ol’ Granny to her work, something she refused to do sometimes even in her younger days. I’d leave her hooked up all night only to find a message that “The Time Machine could not complete the backup” the next morning.
Yay! This time, she spilled her guts. I headed for my appointment at the Apple store with a large tote containing Granny, my new MacBook Air, Time Machine, my iPhone. . . and a book.
The queue of people outside the Apple store sent me into a momentary panic until I realized that I’d messed around until the iPhone 6 had made its debut. I didn’t have to get in that line, just the one at the Genius Bar. While everyone else scrolled through their phones or iPads, I pulled out a hardcover book and read until they were ready for me.
My Genius got things started and the Time Machine began pouring its contents into Thin Air.
I gaped in horror when it informed me it was transferring 100,000 e-mails. WHAT??? Where did they come from? I’d emptied my trash. My Inbox claimed about 2,000 e-mails. Where the heck had 98,000 e-mails been hiding?
Now I’m back online with a new computer and 98,000 mysterious, still hidden e-mails. Even accounting for the fact that I wrote a post once which mentioned a product (hint: it gives a four-hour warning) which unleashed a torrent of . . um. . . pharmaceutical e-mails. Or that every politician in the country knows me personally by my first name and needs my contribution to save the country in this election year. Or that Coldwater Creek surely e-mailed me item by item when they were going out of business. Or that I still get requests to Link-In long after I linked out. All of that wouldn’t account for 98,000 e-mails.
I’m still searching. Got any ideas?