Rhapsody has gone to new software that I don’t like. For one thing, it won’t let you upload songs from your own hard drive into playlists anymore. Like all the Welcome to Night Vale cuts I’ve edited the “commercials” out of that I have in a folder on my desktop. Which means I can’t get to them at all from my my Kindle without downloading them and using up hard drive space I’d rather use for books, and I can’t access them on my internet radio unless I set the durn thing up to access my hard drive. For another thing, this stupid new software doesn’t display both segments of my Sanza Clip Zip — the 8 GB of built in memory and the 32 GB card — which the other one did. It also doesn’t seem to want to load playlists. Just songs. The Rhapsody software is built off Internet Explorer, which I detest. (I’m a Firefox Girl all the way.) They’re phasing everybody over from their old software, so it doesn’t work any more. It just tells you to download an update. I downloaded the update, and now I can’t get the durn new software to load at all. Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.
This voice recognition software I use for work continues to underperform. According to it, a doctor says, “I’m going to see me back in six weeks.” At least half the time, it’s more trouble than it’s worth. On the other hand, sometimes you hear interesting things in the background, like a cuckoo clock. . .
Weird dream last night. I dreamed that in my back yard, I first had a two legged foal (front and back diagonal) being fostered by what was supposed to be a raven (but which looked pretty bedraggled and albatross-y), that somehow morphed into a six legged foal (in-line like a centipede) fostered by a cat. A man came over demanding to see it, and slammed a door to “flush it out of hiding” with the noise. I had to almost literally run him out to get rid of him. Then a group of hausfrauen, including Brooke Shields* showed up at my door wanting to see my house because it had been listed as being for sale without my knowledge by some real estate guy on the make. They were all irate because I wasn’t selling my house after they had been told I was. I like to never got rid of them. Scattered in and amongst these scenes were incidents where I had to remove an unwilling cat or dog from where it didn’t belong., or deal with somebody’s obnoxious pets (“Oh, ha-ha! Isn’t he cute when he does that?” — Uh, no. ).