We have been in the middle of a heat wave as well as a technology meltdown.

“My” computer is tucked in a corner of the bottling room, a room closer by twenty seven steps to the living room couch than the three computers in the shipping wing. This means it requires much less effort to roll off the couch and take over this computer than to seize control of an office machine.

You may wonder why any of my kin are vying for control of something as antiquated as a desktop computer in this age of iPhones. Even now, we remain in a quirky spot in the hills of New Hampshire where no one’s cell phones work. We can’t even get a photo to launch on our Facebook page these days as our DSL line is so far from wherever it needs to be to actually work.

For these reasons and many more, “my” computer is everyone’s default computer, and much like a hearth of old, there are usually people of all ages, shapes and sizes warming “my” seat. “My” computer sees so much traffic, I swear the UPS guy routinely stops in to use it on his way through to pick up our packages.

You know what, I could explain why “my” computer died last week, but it’s really a long boring story: TMF as in Too Many Files probably sums it up best.

And needless to say, when old Bessie died, many of my seat warmers were very happy to whip out and buy “me” a replacement.

With my TMF problem, I have to admit to being relieved that “I” needed a new computer. Just getting to the Google home page took so long it required the patience of Mother Theresa (and she is perhaps the only person I know of who hasn’t used “my” computer lately).

So today, there is a new computer in “my” spot. As William was both a part of old Bessy’s demise as well as a part of the solution, I feel it is only fair to dedicate this first blog on the new computer to Will and his trials and tribulations in the garden.

Yes, it’s a first. A plant actually whipped itself across Will as he walked by it and gave him this injury.

The offending plant? This Hops vine that grows so fast in a Dr. Seussian sort of way that I can’t say I am surprised that it slapped Will on his way into the house.

Will, the Hops plant may not be feeling too apologetic, but I am sorry for your injury. Now, get out of my chair and let me post this.