And Gutenberg Lived Here: Sunday Sunday: The Worm In The Computer

This morning I woke up with the full expectation of writing the epos of a life-time.

Well, at least having a little fun at the computer before breakfast

when I opened the lid of my slider,

switched it on,

and discovered a fat white more than slightly disgusting worm

disappearing into the crack in the casing of  my computer.

I decided to call him horribilix.

Just seemed like the thing to do, somehow.

So, for several hours, horribilix and I played tag.


since the computer was so hot,

time running out for the hope of non-fried buddy.

And then there was my real problem.

If he stayed in there too long, he might morph,

or whatever it is they do when they change into beautiful flying creatures,

which I somehow doubted,

since this was a computer worm.

horribilix horribilix.


the common computer moth.

Which led to fear two.

What if she decided she liked it in there,


and then laid eggs and started a family.

Visions of typing along to legions of squished horriblix juniors

and juniorettes.

And since desperation is the mother of invention,

I hit on the idea of getting a carpet needle and going after him.

or her.

Just to lift it out of the crack, of course.

Then out onto the balcony.

And sure and enough, horribilix appeared.

And belly dove so deep I wasn’t sure I could find him again.

I could of course shish kebob it through and lift it out.

Yeah, sure.

And that was when inspiration hit.

And I did what I surely should have done from the beginning.

Took my slider to the kitchen sink

Turned it over

and banged.

And why do we,

some of us at least,

never discover the surely absolutely most normal and reasonable thing

until we have tried everything else.

And the problem is still driving us mad.

But we are an animal that likes to play

and MacGyver.

And if you don’t believe me, look at kitchen gadgets.

Like over a thousand machines and inventions to peel a clove of garlic.

(just cook it as is,

smash it once with something heavy, like a wax paper covered copy of your husband’s Dunford-Schwartz,

and smear it on the food.

Less work,

tastes better.

I think old Dunford gives it some additional taste.

Just make sure you replace Dunford,

or the German Law Code,

or whatever yours has in the house,

before hubbly wakes.

And if he asks why Dunford smells of garlic,

  1. you haven’t got a clue.
  2. it is fair revenge for having it, or something similar, along on every vacation. So say I, so say we all.

PS I never really saw horribilix fall out.

Or go down the drain.

At least he hasn’t appeared while typing this.

Will keep you posted.

copyright 2016

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