I got a new work computer and I'm not kidding when I say that putting it together was like putting together a nuclear reactor with instructions written in Sanskrit. Each piece came in its own box with its own set of wires and its own set of instructions that did not correlate with the other instructions. And all the instructions were poorly drawn pictures with bullet points written in no fewer than 30 languages. I only recognized about half of them. I am positive that one of them explained what all the cords were for.
Our tech support is in Salt Lake City. If you need something you just call and they can remote into your computer. But there's no one you can call to say, "What are all these wires for? How come I have more cords than holes to plug them into? Can you fly someone out to do this for me?" You just have to wing it. This is the old Pioneer Spirit. My theory is that when you work for a church with a history of making-do, of just pushing through and figuring it out because the mobs are after you and the ague killed off half your neighbors and the crickets are coming to eat your crop, they're not going to send someone out to put a computer together for you when you have a brain and two hands. I mean, the pioneers didn't have tech support when their handcart wheel busted in Nebraska. They just had to figure it out. So I figured it out. And while technology in general is my weak spot, reading comprehension is my strength so armed with nothing but 15 pages of instructions written mostly in Swahili I dived in and several hours later turned on my computer. And it worked. And I was beyond proud. I even wrangled all those wires in the back with twisty ties so it's nice and tidy back there.
I'm off to girls camp. Katie and I are in charge of crafts this year. The thought of camp without any of the responsibilities of previous years is making me lightheaded. You'll find me relaxing in the craft cabin braiding leather.