Tuesday’s storm left my wireless printer pouting. In fact, it was in such a mood that it wouldn’t print at all. I recently had some computer tweaking done, and completely trust the young tech who works on my issues. (Computer issues, that is. We haven’t yet crossed the line into emotional therapy, although the two are closely linked.) The challenge for me is that the tech has his office 20 miles away, which means I need to unplug and lug.
I emailed Brad and told him of my printer woes. He responded that he felt it was an easy fix, and would help me. And then he said the magic words. “If you and your husband can’t get it running, I’d be willing to come out to your house.” Who does that anymore? My knees buckled with joy.
As it turned out, Tad had the printer working before I rolled out of bed this morning. I don’t know what he did, but was giddy that I had a printer again. I emailed Brad and let him know the printer was in a better mood. Nonetheless, knowing he was willing to come to our house when I was in a cyber funk was the best part of my day.