I got word from the Geek Squad this week that the James Family Super Computer's hard drive is melting (my term, certainly not theirs). I called Dell to see if it is still under warranty; the technical support agent's name I think was Bubba. I don't think Bubba was from around here. At any rate, it sounds like I can either ship the system to Antartica for repairs on Dell's dime (at least a month's time without the computer) or they will ship me the hard drive and "talk" me through the repair/installation of the hard drive myself.
Mamma Deacon hasn't stopped laughing at that one. We are reminded of the television commercial about the guy sitting at his kitchen table with a dull butterknife at his chest talking on the phone with the doctor who is instructing him on how to perform the necessary surgery. If this "repair" takes more than a hammer, two flat head screwdrivers, and a ratchet set with several pieces missing, I am in trouble. Holding tools while someone else does the repair work has never been a problem---actually using them myself in constructive ways does not seem to be my gift. My guess is my repair of the computer is likely the last option.
If it becomes viable, tickets to view the event will be sold to offset the cost of the year of psychotherapy I will need after the deed is finished.