My Apple Calendar Is Notifying Me That Tomorrow Is Christmas Eve

There is something about technology's need to overkill that is both tiresome and frightening.  Something like the Night Before Christmas is so momentous and obvious that it is somehow suspicious this insistence of Apple Calendar to highlight it.  I am reminded of the character of the housekeeper Mrs. Danvers in the  film Rebecca gliding silently into the drawing room or boudoir to tell the second Mrs. DeWinter some direction.  My Iphone or computer is always giving me instruction, but of the slightly veiled sort, that is, direction in language that does not tell the whole story, and one has to piece it our from the language, the misuse of language or language used in ways that are foreign to the idiom, i.e., Silicon valley talk.  With the advent of new, improved--and I use the word loosely, borrowing their term--operating systems the world becomes evermore my oyster, or so the system proclaims, and I guess it is true, because my husband seems to manipulate all the nuts and bolts with ever greater proficiency and enthusiasm.  So I guess what I am seeing is me falling behind in the great race of proficiency and adaptability.  It's something actually I have been waiting for, every time I hear younger people exclaiming "Gee, Charlie, it's amazing that you know how to [supply some technological process] considering how old you are!"  When I scan the surface of my Iphone I recognize that I know what only a very few of the emblems displayed are meant to do for me; the same is true of those at the base of my computer screen.  And I know from past experience that whenever on both items I inadvertently "select"--to use their term--something I don't recognize by mistake, that I am led down into dark and dangerous passages where results are not what I expected at all.  And getting out of the mess is always problematic.  I used to try to turn on the television when my husband was out of town following carefully written instructions, and in every instance the screen turned to snow, and he would be exasperated upon his return.  Ah, well, I can read my book sitting in my chair.  God's in his heaven, all's right with the world.  Oh, look, even as I write this up in the right hand corner of the screen there slides surreptitiously on a banner with the legend "Christmas Day tomorrow."  As they say nowadays, "who woulda thunk?"