Oh, the buzzing—the infernal buzzing!

First of all, I have to apologize to my loyal readers who noticed that an April 30 post was mysteriously missing. The truth is, coming up with blog ideas for TWO WHOLE DAYS IN A ROW just wore me out and I was in bed by 9:30. I did get up early this morning, however, to add a post because I knew your whole day would’ve been thrown into a funk if you didn’t get to start your morning with my little morsels of bloggy goodness. 🙂

At the moment I’m trying hard to channel some creative energy, but I’m finding it difficult because of this annoying techno-buzz coming from my 1-month-old 19″ flat-screen acer monitor. I was sitting here enjoying the quiet that only happens when all of the planets align and my children are all sleeping (in their own beds), my cockatiel is not staring at a bone-dry water cup, and my dog has finally passed out from the exhaustion of endless barking, when—no surprise here—something in my house has to break that undeserved silence. This time it was the monitor. I’m pretty sure the poltergeists are trying to talk to me through the screen.

You might wonder why a monitor that I’ve had for only one month is torturing me with the buzz of despair. Ah, yes, let’s explore that question. It seems that I have some sort of computer curse. Shall we take a stroll down memory lane?

It all started with Laptop #1. A smart and sexy MacBook Pro with a 15-inch screen and a finger pad to die for. Sadly, he met his demise when Husband “accidentally” dropped him all the way down the stairs. Onto the hardwood floor. I suspect he was becoming jealous of the way I stroked his keys and let him sit on my lap.

Laptop #2 isn’t nearly as glamorous as #1, but I couldn’t resist a cheap thrill. Although I believe this Lenovo has taught me, if anything, that you get what you pay for. Despite the fact that he’s terribly awkward with horrible social skills, he still didn’t deserve to be disfigured as he was. First came a near-drowning when Husband spilled a glass of beer all over him, rendering his keys useless. Fortunately, however, the Lenovo customer service rep either didn’t understand or just didn’t care and sent me a new keyboard free of charge. (I’m pretty sure that “bathing in beer” is not covered by the limited warranty!) This bliss was short-lived, though: Boy #3 had discovered the joy of torture. He started picking off the keys, sometimes dragging out the torture, and other times ripping off 3 or 4 letters or punctuation marks as quickly as you’d rip off a Band-Aid. Now all that’s left are F2–F12, 2, 3, 4, 6, and U. Doesn’t leave much left to work with. I can write “2 4 U” (“two for you”) or “U2” (“you too” or Bono), but that’s about the extent of my literary capacity. Fortunately, though, we did splurge for a prosthetic device for #2. Although he can’t really get around like he used to since the external keyboard ties him down, at least we can communicate again.

Enter Laptop #3—a newer version of #1, but this time with a shiny, glossy screen and some upgraded features. She turned a year old in February (yes, this one’s a “she”), and she’s been everything I’ve ever wanted in a laptop. We spent many hours together at the local coffee shop writing show-stopping life insurance copy and dreaming about the future. Then came the horrible accident. Another fall, but this time at the hands of Boy #2. I can still hear the heartbreaking sound of metal on wood followed by the word no mom wants to hear uttered: “Whoops!” I rushed her to the Genius Bar at the Apple Store. Diagnosis? Broken screen. Cost? $1100. Response? Buy separate monitor instead for $150 and join the two like Siamese twins. Is this convenient? No. Doesn’t this union create a dangerous intertwining of cords and connectors? Yes. But up until last weekend this was bearable. That was when, as curse would have it, Dog decided that no computer or computer accessory under this roof should go unpunished, and he proceeded to jump on the table while he was trying to kill my mother-in-law because she wouldn’t let him gorge himself on garbage (which is a whole separate story that I’m too emotionally exhausted to go into) and KNOCK THE MONITOR–you guessed it!–onto the hardwood floor. Long story short (or short story long): I’m pretty sure that’s why my monitor is now buzzing.

Sorry, but I can’t listen to this anymore or I’m going to go “tell-tale-heart-Poe” on everyone. I’m going to bed.

6 thoughts on “Oh, the buzzing—the infernal buzzing!”

  1. I’m so sorry. Possibly it’s genetic…I’ve certainly had my own presonaly computer trials with my various Macs. So now I have a PC that I have cussed from Day 1. I’m beginning to believe that maybe it isn’t the computers…that maybe it’s the operator…….. NAW!!
    I hope your buzzing goes away. You can get used to buzzing you know. For instance I have had a horde of locusts in my head for years…it’s nice to feel that one is never alone. And, of course, they never interfer with my concentration. It’s especially nice in the middle of a sleepless night.
    Hope you have a peachy day.

  2. Build a beautiful “office enclosure,” such as the one I have in my home! Crudely made of unfinished plywood, strap hinges, wire, and a hook and eye, you just form a circle around anything you don’t want the kids to get into (ours surrounds our computer, and whatever else we can cram in)and wire it to anything you can so it won’t immediately collapse! It is now covered with crayon scrawls, and kids already know how to put their arm over the door and unlatch it. Also, they like to take heavy, regulation footballs and launch them into the area while I am typing, just to see if they can hit me. But it gives the ILLUSION of safety, and that is really what I am going for. Give her a try, it would look gorgeous in your front room!

  3. I’m pretty sure Turkeypants invented her “office enclosure” because she was feeling reminiscient of the old days when she was a prairie dog in a real cubicle. I’ve used her new “office enclosure,” and let me tell you, it IS almost the same as using a real office cubicle. Well, except for the aforementioned crayon scrawlings, the splinters (from the plywood), the heavy blankets on your lap (because it’s 5 degrees in her basement), and the 2-year-old throwing the Guitar Hero guitar across the room while sporting his adorable naughty grin. But otherwise it reminds me EXACTLY of the old days working in my cubicle in the exciting world of packaging inks!
    P.S. pjmom, you forgot to mention that your poor computer #2 had some if its first removed keys eaten by my dog. Just the P and the S, I think (isn’t that funny! She must’ve wanted to “add something” later), plus a couple of other keys we never found that helped fertilize my yard a couple of days later.

  4. Pjmom-
    This is otherwise unrelated, but speaking of your Boy #3 and my dog to which he tried to feed your computer keys…I just heard him tell the same dog, “Smell my armpit.” And when she didn’t indulge him, he just tattled on her. “Hallie won’t smell my armpit!” Just wanted to share in case you have time to write on an extra topic today and you needed some inspiration!

  5. So sorry I’m a day late reading this! I missed my daily dose of fun prying into the lives of others yesterday, as I was trying to prepare my home for the onset of mass hysteria that will ensue today around 10:00am when the first of a day-full of visitors arrives to wish Son#2 a happy birthday.

    Anyhoo, I’m no expert, pjmom, but it sounds to me as though you may be suffering from something called CRAPS (an unfortunate acronym, I know). This is not what you think. It stands for Computer Renovation And Patchworking Syndrome. I’m sorry, but you have all the signs and symptoms. Unfortunately, you are also surrounded by members of the male species who apparently are suffering from Omission of Ownership of Property Syndrome–commonly known as OOPS. This is almost exclusively found on the Y chromosome, and given the massive number of Y chromosomes in your home, I’m afraid it only perpetuates the problem. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news today. But the good news is that since Sister #2 lives in your neighborhood, she may be able to let the May Day Basket Mothers (those otherwise pesky do-gooders) know that your family is suffering from these toxic doses of OOPS and CRAPS. Perhaps they can organize a Bowl-A-Thon or some other type of fund raiser to help supply your next computer.

    Have a great weekend! I can’t wait till Monday!!

  6. Turkeypants, LOVE the office enclosure idea. It would go well in my front room with my dog kennel that smells like pee and my bird cage overflowing with stray feathers and poop! Perfect!

    And nochickensinmyhair (by the way, you STILL haven’t told me what’s up with the name!), I do believe you’ve had some medical training, because you so effortlessly diagnosed our OOPS and CRAPS.(You did say CRAPS and not CRABS, right?) I love the idea of a Bowl-A-Thon. I’m sure the perfect mothers could also whip up some goodies for a bake sale at the same time. We could either sell them or I could just eat them all–either one would make me happy.

    Keep commenting–it seriously makes my day! (How sad is that?!?)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge