Like many folks around the globe, I’m sheltering in place, and for the most part, I don’t hate it. Minus my occasional meltdowns and fits of panic and fear, I’m doing okay.

BF and I are spending much more time together, and mostly, I’m good with that too. I do not share the sentiment I read on social media recently: a woman was ready for Jolene to come take her man.

I do believe, however, it should be written somewhere in the rules of twenty-first century partnership that within each union, one partner must be tech savvy. We screwed up. Oh sure, we try to help each other, and usually, together, after much consternation and the loss of a much-larger-than-necessary block of precious time, we figure stuff out. I just don’t think we should have to completely lose it over renewing a professional license online, programming the thermostat, or setting the featured image for a blog post. Pictures? Sometimes I can find them; sometimes I can’t. Have to crop or resize a picture? Somebody’s gonna lose their head. (I mean somebody in the picture.) Video conferencing? I can only answer the invitation. Don’t even get me started on Microsoft OneDrive.

Yesterday, we set out to accomplish a few tasks–each involved technology. We gave up at 3:00 in the afternoon and took a walk. Thank God the sun was shining. I was mad. Why had I allowed myself to be left behind? I was there when this whole technology thing rolled out. I wasted so many opportunities for training. I forgot to be curious and learn and become the partner who can figure shit out.

This morning, in answer to our (his) never-give-up spirit, we tried a new method. I took the role of the calming, instructions reader, while he was the master-of-the-mouse, button pusher. It worked! We cleaned up all that was amiss from yesterday. And in record time.

Here is what we’ve learned:

• The tiny sentences across the top of a website form are the instructions.
• One cannot ingest the intricacies of directions while throwing a fit.
• Banging on the keyboard does not help.
• Cursing at the computer, printer, camera, phone, remote, thermostat, etc. nets zero.
• Striking the same key repeatedly does not change the outcome.
• Call your kids–there is a 50/50 chance they may answer.

I’ve spent a few of my stay-at-home hours on the phone with various tech support lines. I’ve learned a few things. I’ve figured a few things out on my own and some together with BF. But I promise you this, I will not accept another reincarnation until passwords no longer exist.