We bought a new laser printer recently. The last one, which Ro was able to buy very cheaply from work a few years ago, is very old and was sticking badly. I’d installed it on the Sage’s computer, but I’ve only just got around to putting it on mine too. And I’m disconcerted to find the great sense of relief and satisfaction when I printed my first documents on it. Never again will I find, in the middle of printing out a series of papers, that a random ink cartridge has run out and I have to faff about changing it, never again will it be a disaster if I run out of a particular colour, I can just move over to the other printer. And there is still the old one, which does work if I feed in the paper sheet by sheet.
I’d love to think I’m happy-go-lucky, but my in-built caution keeps frustrating my efforts. I’m very good at letting go of some things. When driving off to fetch Ro back from university in Lancashire once, I took a friend who wanted to visit his father there and we were delayed by a major traffic jam. The friend was driving at the time and he decided to set off cross-country (roads, dears, not fields) and follow his nose. I was perfectly relaxed about it and he was surprised. He said his wife would have been examining the map, worrying that they might get lost and fretting about the delay. I wasn’t bothered at all – just because it isn’t the sort of thing that upsets me. We were going in the right direction, there wasn’t a plane to catch, we had all day. If people call in unexpectedly, I can always rustle up a meal and if not there’s the chippie or the pub. I assume that things will work out and it doesn’t much matter if they don’t. But on the other hand, when something is my responsibility, I always have a plan and a back-up if it’s at all possible. But my semi-hidden need for a back-up for the back-up is slightly over the top.
Mind you, I put in the last cartridge of black ink the other day. I won’t quite relax until I’ve ordered more supplies.