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Kevin Bloody Wilson said it best about yesterday :
https://youtu.be/pYfLZoI5wQQ
Yesterday morning my phone was at it again as it has been for weeks, telling me it’s close to full to capacity so I need to lose some files. Even after paring my photos and documents down to the minimum I could bear not to lose (parting with some painfully), still the ‘Too many files’ message appeared.
A look at ‘Analyse storage’ was a fat lot of help, although I was sick as a parrot to know the photos hadn’t been taking up enough space to make a difference and could have stayed. 51 GB was taken up with a mysterious ‘Other’.
I was in a very bad place by now. It took a phone call to customer services to establish that the storage-hogging was too many apps. Went on an uninstalling spree. That turned out to be enough.
To the dentist’s in the afternoon for a filling. Our old friend the plastic mouth-filler went back on duty, but at least the whole procedure didn’t seem to last as long as previous nightmares, and the dentist was happy enough with me to say “well done” from time to time. It was at the end that the killer came.
She wants me back in in the near future, to take a full X ray of a tooth I had a root canal filling in in 1995. There’s a line showing up on the general X ray that she wants to investigate further. And that might mean internal work - I think she said pulp extraction or something - that’s sure to cost an arm and a leg. I was about to have open wallet surgery in reception for the filling as it was.
Then in the evening, outside Privett Park as I was rounding the card queue to get to the cash turnstile for Gosport Borough v Weston-super-Mare, I thought I was shaking a stray leaf off the sole of my trainer but it soon became apparent I’d stepped in dog dirt. And there was next to none still on the ground.
Inside the stadium, under the floodlights, an examination of my sole confirmed that I’d carried off the whole thing. It took me five tissues to get rid of most of it; by then I was gagging from the pong.
And Gosport lost 4-0.
And this morning I woke up with a sore throat and congested nose. A cold coming on. That’s my plans for a three-game weekend down the kermit. Staring at the wall looms.
The black cloud has descended.
https://youtu.be/pYfLZoI5wQQ
Yesterday morning my phone was at it again as it has been for weeks, telling me it’s close to full to capacity so I need to lose some files. Even after paring my photos and documents down to the minimum I could bear not to lose (parting with some painfully), still the ‘Too many files’ message appeared.
A look at ‘Analyse storage’ was a fat lot of help, although I was sick as a parrot to know the photos hadn’t been taking up enough space to make a difference and could have stayed. 51 GB was taken up with a mysterious ‘Other’.
I was in a very bad place by now. It took a phone call to customer services to establish that the storage-hogging was too many apps. Went on an uninstalling spree. That turned out to be enough.
To the dentist’s in the afternoon for a filling. Our old friend the plastic mouth-filler went back on duty, but at least the whole procedure didn’t seem to last as long as previous nightmares, and the dentist was happy enough with me to say “well done” from time to time. It was at the end that the killer came.
She wants me back in in the near future, to take a full X ray of a tooth I had a root canal filling in in 1995. There’s a line showing up on the general X ray that she wants to investigate further. And that might mean internal work - I think she said pulp extraction or something - that’s sure to cost an arm and a leg. I was about to have open wallet surgery in reception for the filling as it was.
Then in the evening, outside Privett Park as I was rounding the card queue to get to the cash turnstile for Gosport Borough v Weston-super-Mare, I thought I was shaking a stray leaf off the sole of my trainer but it soon became apparent I’d stepped in dog dirt. And there was next to none still on the ground.
Inside the stadium, under the floodlights, an examination of my sole confirmed that I’d carried off the whole thing. It took me five tissues to get rid of most of it; by then I was gagging from the pong.
And Gosport lost 4-0.
And this morning I woke up with a sore throat and congested nose. A cold coming on. That’s my plans for a three-game weekend down the kermit. Staring at the wall looms.
The black cloud has descended.
