The Scene In Which I Hear Voices, Alternately Titled, My Computer Wants To Kill Me

So, seriously. This technology stuff kills me sometimes. I cannot believe that in the time between my dad's first cell phone (Zach Morris, eat your heart out, this one had a snap-top case that you could store it in because there were times you weren't using it, and let me just tell you- a REMOVABLE ANTENNAE) and today, we now have the ability to check our email, plot our travel, order anything we need, listen to music, text, and what-have-you all from these tiny hand held devices.

Now, I'm not saying I'm not a little bit technology- savvy. I have an iPhone, if only because when I finally went to replace my third, beloved, well-used Razr phone this past winter.......well, you guessed it, they laughed at me when I asked if they still made them.

Hey, I LIKED MY RAZR, OK???

I also have- wait for it- a laptop computer, which I love dearly having finally figured out where all my buttons and emails and shortcuts and such are and which is now, of course, beginning to act in ways that it should not including a few random keys not working, and of course the absolute inability of the battery to function more than 30 seconds without being tethered to the wall by a power cord, which sort of defeats the purpose of having a laptop, but HEY, it works for me, unless someone is up for opening a PC store in my house and giving me a new nifty one like those commercials, someone, anyone??

But earlier this week, technology nearly did me in, and it was when this happened.

If you've been in my office lately, you'll know that I use a large, former schoolhouse mailbox system for an open-air filing system. Which means that everyday, when I sit down to work, I take out the files I need to work on that day from their neat (ok semi-neat...ok I need to organize them again) cubbyholes, stack 'em on my desk, and get to work.

Usually I open my email at the same time too.

This is where it started going badly.

Because unbeknownst to myself, the first email that I chose to click on was sent by a person who wanted me to do an event in November and had ALSO just left me a voicemail that pretty much said the exact same thing, in pretty much the same words, in pretty much the same order.

Also unbeknownst to me, the stack of folders I'd just set down had been set down directly on top of my work phone, and in a series of sheer impossibility I don't think I'll ever be able to recreate, I had managed to turn on both the speakerphone AND activate the voicemail, on a slide-top phone.

(Seriously. I don't know how this happened. The phone has a slide-open feature for gosh sakes. Half the time I can't even figure out how to get the voicemail when I'm TRYING to. )

The end result of both those items left me opening an email and starting to scan it at the exact same time my brain clicked in to something speaking to me from somewhere nearby, followed shortly by the realization that the email and the voice were saying the same thing and the simultaneous realization that OH DEAR JESUS, MY EMAIL IS TALKING TO ME followed by the only natural conclusion to be drawn which was GET THE EFF AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER, and left me catapulting myself backwards out of my chair and towards the door, just in case the computer decided to do something really tweaked for its next trick, like SPROUT LEGS AND KILL ME.

It's a damn good thing it has to stay plugged in all the time. Take that, technology.

One of these days, if they haven't already, they're going to invent a software program that reads your email to you and yes, it will seem like a cool invention, and you might even be tempted to try it, but let me tell you first- there IS such a thing as too much technology, and THIS IS IT, because talking computers? EFFING CREEPY.
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