This week's task is only one of the most important tasks of my middle age. It has taken me the better part of a year to complete, and, as the final step, it only requires that I print out five documents.

But because of you, piece of shit, worthless, and mean-spirited Hewlett Packard Printer-in-One, this task is fucking impossible. Even now, because I know you sense that I have given up on this task, you're over there making alert sounds, trying to stir up a long-dead ember of hope that you will finally, actually print my documents. But I am not getting off my butt to even come over there and see what weirdness you're up to. In fact, the last glimpse of me that you will ever see will include a hammer.

Your partner in crime is my husband's PC which inexplicably decided to reformat my resume and change all of the footnotes in my writing sample into roman numerals. This means I had footnotes that only a fifth grader, fresh off of learning Roman numerals for some stupid reason, could actually map the footnote to the reference. Thanks, PC. I didn't even realize it until I was leafing through the paper and saw footlong indecipherable bits peppered within what I remember as being a lovely paper. I also like how you decided the latter half of page 10 could be cut short. We didn't need the last few sentences on that page.

 So, the first thing that happened when I started to print is that you said you were out of ink. I was doubtful because I'd just replaced your cartridge, but the kids do go on a tear with the printer once in a while, so I gave you a new one. That's me doing you a kindness. Giving you the benefit of the doubt. But you looked surprised that I actually had a replacement, and that's what made me suspicious. I went ahead and started printing anyway, my guard completely down, thinking of grad school and sunnier times ahead.

Then of course you ran out of paper and made your stupid noise at me--the paper is right there--you could have reached out and helped yourself, but NO. You were just warming up. Then, after churning away happily for a few minutes, you just stopped. The printer status window alerted me to the fact that the job was indeed in grave danger, and then informed me that the cartridge was still empty. I restarted the evil PC. Still, that job was clogging the queue, and the PC decided to ignore my requests to cancel it. Damn you both.

Finally, I "paused" it, and you seemed to accept that. You continued to print other things, and I went and sat down again. That's when you started to make strange noises. Like you were struggling over some Braille or something. So finally I went to investigate only to find you printing out your third copy of a full-color world map pinpointing the location of all the tropical rainforests. WHAT THE FUCK. I printed that out last week for my kid to share at school. CANCEL.

Now you are claiming you are out of ink again. And I know that you are lying. You great big dirty electronic bastard. I hope there's a special hell just for you and your kind where lubrication does not exist, and the permanent state of affairs is NO POWER followed by POWER SURGES and sitting in puddles of water while a mouse slowly nibbles on all your wires and delicate parts until you dream of the day when you will be graced with a job as good as printing out my mundane documents.