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.