Have the lambs stopped screaming, Clarice

Maybe they have. What you hear right now is me. Is that too much? No, it isn't. I can't find my back arrows. Somehow I made them disappear and now I can't get them back. I know it's simple. I know it's easy. Just not for me. I am clicking on this and that. Trying to drag them open. Where did they go, Elaine? Where did they go? I wonder if she will regale this story to her colleagues? People like "them" find a problem like this worthy of an oh god 360, better known as the eye roll. I don't remember clicking on a button that said, "if you want to make your arrows disappear, click here." Of course I can't find that one that says, "click here if you want them back." That would be too easy. User friendly my computer is not. Sure, I can turn it on and off. They made that easy with an on and off button. Then they throw in little stuff like the font size change when you aren't looking. All of a sudden it goes from a ten to a three. "My eyes, my eyes," I cry. "Someone threw sand in my eyes." Miraculously it changes and I look around the room and everyone is staring at me. Little do they know it's a good feeling to get your sight back. I love my pink computer. She's a blessing. She's the bright spot in my life. Where else would I learn how to make my bathroom look like an underwater paradise? I wouldn't have any idea how to flatten my belly or enlarge my penis, whiten my teeth and find Jesus all in under fifteen minutes if it wasn't for her. Maybe she's mad at me. Perhaps she's the one who hid the arrows from me. Do you think it was because I at a jelly donut over her buttons and just a little fell in. Maybe it was the milk I spit on her screen laughing at another dog dragging his butt on You Tube. Today I will clean her up. I'll tell her what she means to me and how much my life has improved since we met. Perhaps the screaming will stop. Her yes. Me? Never.