A/C Solved, Computer Unsolved, and Goofy Family Stories

Whoo Hoo! The a/c is fixed, so the house is cool--fantastic, now that 90s are going to be the norm for the next two or three months.

I'm a geek in many ways, but not so much in the computer realm. I've been using a program that will find and delete index.dat files, but anybody know how to eradicate those stubborn DAT files that are unnecessary yet impossible to delete because (supposedly) they are in use by Windows or some other program? I am not a happy camper.

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Gotta be up on your Loony Toons for this one:
When I visited family in Tucson in May, my mother was assigned the nursery as her sleeping quarters (hey, the baby hasn't used it yet!), and our luggage and various clothing and grooming items were stored on some shelves in there.

One morning, I was the first in the household to waken, so I snuck (sneaked?) into the nursery a couple times to get this or that. Mom shifted once, and another time she muttered something, so I asked her later if I'd woken her. She looked at me in surprise. "Didn't hear a thing."

I dropped into my best Elmer Fudd crouch, an imaginary shotgun in my hands, and did an exaggerated cartoon tip-toe across the living room. "I'm hunting wabbits."

Mom laughed, head back, then imitated me. "Be vewy, vewy quiet."

Next day:
As we neared the base gate on the return trip from Phoenix, a few cars got between my brother's car and Mom's, so he and his wife and Niece #2 were at home by the time Mom and Niece #1 and I arrived.

That was a good thing.

Bubba noticed we weren't behind him--"Looks like we've lost Mom"--and then got distracted by the moon behind a palm tree, and wished he had a camera handy to capture it. Then he points across the road. "Look! A bunny!"

His wife: "Uhm, you just drove past the house."

And the day after that:
After taking orders for everyone's favorite flavors, Bubba and I went to the Shopette for Icees all around. On the way, we saw a truck that sported a sign: "Makes Frequent Stops."

"Guess it just gets a wild hare, and stops." Immediately, he and I stomp on imaginary brake pedals, lurch in our seats, and make squealing-brake noises.

Then one of us--I can't remember which--points across the road. "Oh, look! A bunny!"

Sh! Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits.

Welcome to my insane little world.