Sometimes I think my lovely (and dangerous) wife keeps me around for amusement purposes only, like having a court jester or village idiot on retainer. About two or three times a day she has to "rescue" me from myself, and I'm pretty sure she lives for those moments.
Yesterday I was happily web-surfing away the afternoon, trying to find something interesting without stumbling into uncharted waters that might sink my computer's little ship. I seem to find all the hull-bursting reefs on the internet, like a magnet finding stray shards of iron. Anyway, because it was a holiday, no one seemed to be blogging, the news was exceedingly dull, and I found myself clicking from link to link in search of anything marginally worthwhile to read or watch.
That's when I hit the "magic button" on my keyboard. I have no idea where this magic button is located, or what icon is printed on the key, but about once or twice a month I manage to accidentally hit it during my spastic attempts to type, and the resultant chaos always involves a lot of cursing, panic, and eventually a call for my wife to come and help me fix the mess I've made.
This particular "oh shit!" button is the one that makes all the toolbars and taskbars at the top of my computer monitor disappear. The upside to this is having a wonderfully expanded view of things, since the monitor isn't cluttered up with AVG, Google, Yahoo, Bing, and all the other toolbars I never use... The obvious downside is not being able to navigate to any of the sites I DO want to see.
I have no idea how this happens, or if I'm the only person who is blessed with the opposite of The Midas Touch. I'm pretty sure the fairy tale would have worked just as well if the Midas Touch had turned everything to shit, which is what I seem to be capable of doing at any given moment. I can be back here minding my own business, not even staring at internet titties, when it happens. Presto! No toolbars... no Google search bar... nothing. Just a monitor screen on whatever page I was looking at when the cyberspace version of "The Rapture" sucked all the helpful shit off of my computer.
I'll plunk and poke around in my typical ham-handed manner, but eventually I'll have to announce (and this always! draws a heavy sigh from the wizard in the other room...) that I've done it yet again, please come help at your earliest convenience. She's always prompt to the rescue, so there's that.
I'm sure the people who designed the "oh shit!" key know where it is. They could tell us, but won't. And the people who know how to correct this mysterious problem would rather tell you the combination to the vault containing their life's deepest, darkest secrets than reveal the cure they use to restore all the taskbars. Makes 'em feel all-powerful, and gives them an air of superiority to flaunt for a bit.
If asked, I'll swear I only do this to give my wife the satisfaction she needs to feel empowered. It's done on purpose to give you happiness, honey... No need to thank me, I'm here to help.
Where was I? Oh yeah... Wicked Weasel bikini competition...