My PC, the Big Bully

My PC is a bully.
It's like the horse at the local riding stable who sizes you up and knows you're a gringo before your untrained seat even plops into the saddle.
PC (short for Pugnacious Codger) snickers every time I approach it. It senses my fear.
Today, for example, PC let me think all was well. It hummed along, applying words and edits onto the screen according to my speedy fingers.
Waited till I was warmed up and in a groove.
Then, Blam!
One of my lines suddenly shifted to the right about twenty-five spaces.
What the. . . ?
I placed the cursor to the left of the first word in the line and tapped the backspace. The last word of the previous sentence jumped down and joined the errant line.
Huh?
My son, Garrett, was just getting ready to leave for work.
"Help!"
Garrett came into the office, leaned over and peered at the strange sentence while I explained what happened. He tried the same thing: placed the cursor, tapped backspace. The line moved back where it belonged.
Garrett smiled smugly. I know what he's thinking: I'm computer challenged.
As soon as he was gone PC employed another of its exasperating moves.
You type a word and the letters fail to appear on the screen for a full three to five seconds. Just as you type the word again, the previously typed letters appear. Now you have "thethe."
Argh!
Oh, PC has many tricks up its sleeve. But as soon as Bruce sits down to type up his Bible study notes, it sits up straight and folds its hands in its lap. The big bully.
Nary a typo nor a misplaced line on the screen for Bruce.
My theory is that PCs everywhere recognize the vibes sent out by right-brained humans. (Bruce is decidedly left-brained.)
Maybe the vibes come directly from my fingers.
Should I put on latex gloves?
What do you think?