Evil Elves

In outfits rife with pale pink, they prance around the workshop. A comely young lady dances through and smiles beguilingly while touting a cell phone plan. The commercial message is nearly subsumed by the cuteness quotient. I'm not buying but I bet others do.

'Tis the season of elves, those consistently cheerful helpers who assure that holiday gifts get transported across the globe to eager children. At least that's what we've been told and maybe what we want to continue to believe. Elf images abound in print, commercials, movies and books. They're benign, harmless, friendly and appear to be infinitely huggable.

Recently my opinion of elves has evolved into a negative stance. I've decided that a colony of elves has invaded my computer. Somehow they gained access and are creating a maddening array of devilment.

The other morning, I looked at my e-mail account and discovered that it had changed overnight. Not one of the endless updates that promises to improve the service but never does. Not the annoying messages that calmly report the site is not working right now and to check back later. Not the frozen status when no amount of clicking will change the screen.

My list of Favorites, carefully composed and constantly utilized, had vanished from the left side of the screen. Given that the list was in place when I went to bed the previous night, how could this have happened? Truthfully, I wasn't responsible. No errant clicking caused the list to disappear.

With my level of frustration escalating, I tried a secondary e-mail site. The same condition greeted me. Fortunately the altered screen configuration isn't a total disaster. I can locate my precious list by clicking on 'Favorites' in the tool bar. Why should I have to add another click when I was quite content with the previous iteration? There is no choice.

By now, my audible sighs are attracting the attention of my techno adept husband. He offers to rescue me. I relinquish my desk chair and stand to the side, ready to absorb any nuances that might restore the favored page. Even he is unsuccessful in this quest and he gently suggests that the annoyance is minor. Of course he is right but my change averse self is still rebelling.

I trust that the elves who reside within my desktop PC don't read blogs. I wouldn't want them to know how stymied I am or my level of disdain for their unwelcome activities.

Though technology inhabits that part of my brain where the lack of math acuity also dwells, I've made an effort to become, if not exactly facile, at least less hopeless. I'm much more comfortable with technology, particularly computers, than I'll ever be with mathematics.

I am able to send and receive e-mail easily. That is, assuming that the browser is cooperating fully. (I know that I must transition to Firefox and abandon Internet Explorer altogether.)

Downloading photos, scanning documents, making DVDs and CDs, I perform all of those tasks. My Flickr account is active, my blog updated regularly. I've certainly left the novice category behind.

There are days, however, when I look at my office window and wonder if it would shatter should I lose control and attempt to hurl the CPU or computer screen. These thoughts are very fleeting and totally fanciful. My usual solution is to leave the room or ask for assistance.

Maybe I should make peace with my imaginary elves. Perhaps they need attention much like small children. Soothing talk, a letter perhaps?

Dear Elves: While I may appreciate your presence, do remember that I am somewhat technologically inept. Please consider my condition when toying with my system.

Yours sincerely,

I'm not a swearing person, even when provoked. A favorite expression is 'horsefeathers,' hardly profane. Shall I create a special computer oath? It can be uttered when sanity is slipping and sighing is useless.

It may be easier to request a tutorial from my daughter whose eminent technology acumen can surely eliminate all elves.