I'm 34 years old. I've had one iron, two typewriters and three televisions.
I've noticed that the more sophisticated the technology, the more often I have to replace it.
Seven years ago, I bought my first personal computer -- an IBM clone with a monochrome monitor and a dot matrix printer. Two years ago, my husband bought me a Packard Bell 386, and I thought it was all I'd ever need.
Then last week, my husband called me at work and said, "Guess what I bought."
I hate guessing.
"A fax machine," he said. "But not just a fax machine. It also has a laser printer and a photocopier."
I had my misgivings, but that evening we gathered around a large, unopened box containing the latest technical wizardry.
My husband enthusiastically tore open the cardboard and peered inside. "Oh, it kinda has a lot of parts," he said.
Undeterred, he rooted around inside until he found the instruction manual and tossed it to me. "Here, you read."
Now I've never been afraid of mechanical gadgets. When I was a kid, I tore apart my parents' alarm clock to see what was inside. So when my husband started handing me cords and cables, I didn't have much trouble figuring out where they belonged.
But then we had to tell our computer that it was linked to a new printer.
For some reason, the two didn't hit it off. No matter what we did, we couldn't get them to talk to each other. The printer refused to print.
I admit to having no patience with computers. I think a computer ought to work as easily as a car. I want to turn a switch and go without having to look under the hood and jiggle wires.
My husband has infinitely more patience and sat up until 2 a.m. trying to coax the printer into printing.
The next day, he went back to the store and consulted with a sales clerk. He tried again that evening, but still had no luck. At about midnight, he surrendered and we packed the machine back in its box.
My husband took the unfathomable piece of machinery back to the store and exchanged it for a fax machine, a laser printer and a package to upgrade the memory of our computer.
By the time I got home, he already had the fax machine and printer working, but he wanted my help installing the new memory cards.
My sole qualification for this task was that once I'd opened up the old IBM clone and put in a graphics card. Never mind that for the rest of its days, it showed funny little stars and squiggles on the screen.
Still, I was willing to try. I picked up the manual and began reading.
After some effort, we unscrewed the cover and slid it back. Suddenly I halted. There on page 5-1 of the manual were the words in bold-faced black letters:
"WARNING! Before installing or touching any exposed printed circuit boards, computer parts, chips, etc., make certain that you are properly grounded. This is extremely important as most internal computer components are highly susceptible to damage from Electro-Static Discharge (ESD)."
"Stop!" I screamed. "Don't touch anything!"
My husband froze. "What's wrong?"
"You're not grounded. You'll give the computer ESD."
I read on to figure out how one performs safe maintenance. The manual informed me that we could ground ourselves by wearing a wrist strap connected to an electrical ground.
Or, lacking that, the book said we could avoid ESD by connecting the computer's power cord to a three-pronged electrical outlet and maintaining continuous contact with a metal surface on the computer.
That sounded a bit odd. My father, who was an electrician, always said I should unplug any electrical equipment before working on it. I became even more suspicious when the pamphlet that accompanied the memory cards said: "Note: Always unplug the power cord from the computer before doing any work inside."
We figured it better to risk ESD than electrocution, so we unplugged the computer and stared into the maze of circuit boards. Neither the computer manual nor the memory upgrade instructions had any kind of diagram to show where to put the new chips. A $1.99 microwave dinner comes with more instructions.
I was afraid to touch anything, but my husband, being more adventurous, picked up one of the chips and began poking it into different places until at last he found an indentation where the chip seemed to fit.
I was sure the computer was going to blow up and cursed the people who write the instruction manuals. "We're supposed to be hurtling down the information highway and we don't even have a decent road map!"
My husband ignored my fuming, put back the cover, plugged in the cords and turned on the computer.
To my surprise, it didn't blow up. It even worked with no signs of ESD.
Now we have a new printer, a new fax and a faster computer. If we're lucky, they'll last a couple of years before contributing to the overflow of a county landfill.
The Anne Arundel County school system can have its $35 million ASAP computer network. Good luck reading the manuals on that one.
As for me, I'll continue to creep along the information highway with my caution lights flashing.
Liz Atwood is The Baltimore Sun's editorial writer in Anne Arundel County.