Off the wall…

Today was one of ‘those’ days. You know the ones I mean, the ones you wish you hadn’t bothered getting up for.
First off, the PC kept crashing, five times in all when I was trying to read our email, so my mood was deteriorating fast. I had recently tried to clear the computer cache as it was slowing down faster than I was. Now don’t ask me what this means, but apparently it’s something you’re supposed to do to improve the performance. I could do with something like that, come to think of it.
I was starting to get that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach again, which usually means I had screwed up again. I had followed the instructions, but this doesn’t mean a thing these days, as my PC can get into more trouble than I can, and sometimes without my telling it to.
When I stopped for lunch, I thought the day was getting better, but then I had trouble getting the stupid plastic lid off the butter. Most of the time they are so loose they usually fall off, but not today. It nearly broke my fingers, but I managed to control my temper. What I really wanted to do was throw it at the nearest wall.
Then the toaster decided to keep my toast. If it wanted some, all it had to do was ask, not steal mine. One slice was available to me, but the other seemed to be wedged inside the contraption. Now, I know better than to dig around in there with a knife, but the nearest wall was starting to look appealing again, so I forced myself to keep rattling the toaster like a mad woman until it came loose.
By the time I had eaten the toast, my head was pounding and my mood was awful. In the past, my temper has been memorable, but the years have mellowed me quite a bit. At least I thought they had.If the weather was better, I would have gone for a walk, but it was freezing out there and I was supposed to be recuperating from three weeks of radiotherapy. None of my routine jobs looked appealing either, so I decided to play solitaire for over an hour.
Unfortunately, this didn’t improve my mood the way it used to. I felt so guilty for playing hooky, my mood was no better than before.I resolved to do something, anything, to relieve this guilt. I would be even more cross with myself if I didn’t. Hopefully I could pick something that wouldn’t crash, or go wrong the minute I touched it. For I knew I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions if anything did.

So I finished reading the book I was reviewing and in no time at all, I felt noticeably better.  The headache had receded and I no longer wanted to break something.
I probably should stay away from machines, as we really don’t get on. My life would be less hazardous, but incredibly boring, so they are a necessary evil.
They don’t seem to play up for most people, so why me?
What do you do when machines seem to hate you?