Procrastination gets the last laugh at the Crochet Nanny

Well, December 10th, last day I blogged. Where has she been they ask. My friend says, "I keep checking to see if there is something new" . . . New? Yea, there is something new all right! In fact, it rhymes with new, sort of like the name game. The first letter is not the same, replace it and you have the name, new, drop the n, add bl, and you got it. B L E W! My hard drive blew, as in fried, dead as a doornail, virtual mortuary, computer cemetery, electronic crematory. Remember how I said I was a procrastinator? Remember how I was talking about all this stuff I wanted to do, like, SAVE MY PICTURES ONTO A DISK! There are on a disk alright, a hard drive disk that is wrapped in a plastic Walmart bag and sitting on a table down here. I heard the clickety clackety sound. It certainly wasn't Santa on the rooftop. But did I even think to wonder what it was? No o o o o , just kept downloading, surfing, emailing, scrolling, doing my puzzles, playing Hidden Object, everything but backing up. That was something I was going to get to. My son in law needed directions to the NJ Devils, game, sure said I, mapquest, google earth, 4ll.com, msn maps, hey, I have been on them all. Take your pick, do you want the scenic route, or the direct, fastest, or less miles? Do you want me to print it right from their website with a picture of the stadium? I'm good at this I think as I walk over to the computer that is always on by the way. I'm looking at my screen, it says hard disk error. He is still on the phone, so I say, hold on, I have to reboot. He says with his Romanian accent, "I don't think you should do that, you should call someone." Did I listen? You know the answer already. So, control/alt/delete, reboot, hard reboot, trip the surge protector, pull the plug out of the wall, yea that should do it. It didn't, same message. Ok, so not to panic. My friend's husband plays with computers, he takes all our old computers from work, breaks them down into parts. He assures me, "I have a whole closet of hard drives, let me see what I can do." I am sweating a little at this point, my grandson, he is 6, every stinking day of his life is on that computer. Ever meet a first time grandmother with a digital camera? My pictures thingy said I had 3,000 pictures stored on it. That can't be possible, can it? Anyway, I pleaded, "I don't care about anything, just get me my pictures of my grandson" I felt like I was negotiating with a kidnapper. Maybe I should have gotten a SWAT team involved. It didn't take him long to call. My friend was on the phone, he was on the extension, I guess they were going to double tag team break it to me. It was done, there was nothing that could be done. It was dead, he knew it as soon as he turned it on and heard that clicking/buzzing sound. "How long has that been going on?" , not too long, I answered sheepishly, not wanting to admit that it had to be a few (gulp!) months. "Well, I'll throw a new hard drive in there" . Still hopeful, I asked, "what about my pictures, can I get them?" He said best I can do is give you the old harddrive back. They have places that supposedly can try to retrieve stuff from dead hard drives. I picture a dark alley, exchanging cash, sweaty palms, a kid with a mohawk named Moses, saying, what's it to ya, Nanny? It couldn't be that bad. . I asked around, and someone told me that there are places that will retrieve stuff from your driver. I even got the website, and gee, his friend had it done about six years ago and it only cost him $267! Are you kidding me? Anyway, I went on the website. They have a little diagnostic testing thing there. You click on it, and turn on your speakers and it makes all kind of noises and you can identify what is wrong with your computer by the noise. I tested them all, yea, it was the hard drive alright. The website said, if you hear this noise which it then clearly demonstrated, immediately back up all your stuff on disks in case of a hard drive failure. So there sits my hard drive, seven years worth of baby pictures safely locked away for eternity in its sealed tight vault. I guess I could call Geraldo and see if he can send some kind of expedition in to see what he can find like he did with Al Capone's lost treasure. First I took the tower back from my friend and hooked it up. Unfortunately, when I turned it on, it emitted a high ear piercing, usually heard only by dogs, shrill buzzing sound. I tried playing a movie in it, and then a music DVD but it wouldn't mask the sound. It's been a week, my ears are still ringing. Right now my husband hooked up his laptop to my monitor, but it is moving at the speed of, well, slightly slower than a molasses covered snail in January. It just took me an hour and half to download one picture for a new product listing. Problem is, every time I go upstairs, I have to pass that Walmart wrapped tragedy, sitting on the table, taunting me, reminding me of all that was lost. I have tried averting my eyes, but it magnetizes me, like I have a steel plate in my head, my head snaps immediately to it. I can't stop looking at it wistfully, asking, why? why? as if I didn't know why! Stupidity and procrastination have their own revenge. I know you are not going to believe this, but last night, as I flicked off the light and headed up the stairs, I swore I heard it say, "Na na na na na, I told you so . . . . !!!"