Technology is out to get me.
Not in a paranoid, crazy way.
In that totally normal way a non-sentient being can hold a grudge and use it to torture you.
(And in this case, you is me.)
I started sensing this was the case after the Dear Crappy Writer emails started.
(In case you’re wondering, yes, I’m positive I’ve checked Feedburner’s Please Don’t Send Me Dear Crappy Writer Emails box.)
(I still get at least a few a week.)
But apparently my arch-enemy wasn’t satisfied and decided to infiltrate Instagram to cause me yet more pain.
You may remember that I’m attempting to read all of Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot novels.
I’m memorializing each reading with an Instagrammed photo of the book cover.
So on Tuesday, after finishing Hercule Poirot’s Christmas and aching to share a comment on bloody snow footprints with the world, I opened Instagram and selected my photo and chose my filter and then… nothing.
The app closed.
So I tried a few more times, taking a different photo and closing the app and restarting.
And nothing, absolutely nothing, would make my photo post.
So, in my infinite laziness, I moved on and attempted other things.
Then, Wednesday morning, I tried again.
And again I was thwarted.
Until Wednesday night, when I was quite simply able to post this photo of Lindsey & I & ice cream.
(Happy Birthday Lindsey!)
After ice cream we all adjourned to my place where we sat around the dining room table, talking and laughing.
About what, I don’t know, as I was distracted, trying yet again to Instagram Hercule Poirot’s Christmas and once more being denied with a black screen and a closing of the app.
Skye thought to perform a quick Google search to see if, perhaps, the problem was not mine alone.
(The problem is mine alone.)
This was doubly verified when Skye was allowed to post her own Instagram photo of Hercule Poirot’s Christmas.
The only solution is clear.
I must track down and murder my arch enemy.
And then make sure to wipe my feet before walking over snow.
People named Carl have always had it out for me
So he’s probably named Carl
Or Jessica,
Megan
I’m Being Stalked By A Ghost Murderer/Scientist
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
It seems like a book cover featuring yellow snow would be pretty scary, too.
Just saying.
People named Carl have always had it in for me too! No really, only for me it’s people named Karl. This is creepy weird Megan!
There have been times that I’ve had similar issues with Instagram – usually, it’s because I’ve just taken about 200 different pictures of my face, trying to find an angle that doesn’t make me look like an ogre . . . eventually, when Instagram is using the front-facing camera, the app will just give up, and I need to quit (and hard-quit) in order to head back in.
And then, there are times that I actually have to uninstall the application and then re-install the application. But, during those times, I think my iPhone is just out to fuck with me.
Happy birthday Lindsey! Megan, there’s nothing stalking you, just send me some ice cream and remain happy.
Yes, to hijack your comments, Happy Birthday Lindsey!
I like that – one has a cone with ice cream in it and the other has ice cream with a cone in it.
Now I’ll have to follow/unfollow you several times just to generate a bunch of emails.
Technology is a love/hate relationship – great when it works and majorly stinks when it doesn’t!
Creepy!
Now you’ve told the whole internet that I posted the forbidden picture!!
Call me tomorrow to make sure I’m still alive?
That is so weird! Totally a modern Agatha Christie type dilemma though. Watch your back!
It is always much, much worse when the problem is yours alone. I am afraid the outcome doesn’t look good for you!