Well…I’ve done it again. I’ve survived another near tragic day, somehow. Oh, I don’t mean to make light of real tragedy…I’ve been lucky enough to steer far clear of true heartbreak. But make no mistake about it, if my laptop had not been saved today, it would have been tragic to me.
I think it all started with the trial application of my word processing software. You know what I mean, you buy a new laptop and it comes with a sixty day trial of the very best software mankind has to offer. I think perhaps Bill Gates autographed this particular copy, that’s how good it was. But at the end of the sixty days, you have to sell your car, your house, and at least one of your children to upgrade to the permanent version. I was determined to stretch my sixty days by at least an extra sixty before I forked up the money for the full version. I discovered, purely by accident, that your trial software only expires if you close it.
Hey…that sounds like an easy fix. You just don’t close it, right?
Have you ever tried to keep your computer from rebooting for sixty days? It’s not an easy task, I can assure you. It requires ignoring all updates, avoiding dead batteries, and defying the little pop-up warnings on a daily basis. It became a game. Me versus the laptop warlords. I kept my charger close at all times and watched for those pesky little update reminders that try to trick you into clicking “yes” when what you really want to do is click “not just yet.” But worse than that, I was also defending the laptop against a roving dog paw, Hell bent on pushing the power button several times a day.
The best part of it all was, in the immortal words of Charlie Sheen, I was winning. I was using the glorious word processing program for weeks and months beyond the expiration date. I was brilliant!
I was not brilliant. I was a dead battery in a flashlight on a dark night.
After my extra sixty days (give or take a day) my lovely friend, my dear laptop, the little pot of ink to my magical quill, crashed like a heart attack victim in an emergency room. I was forced to reboot and upgrade to the expensive software.
But it was too late. The fresh software was nothing more than a rabies vaccine to a rabid squirrel. Dear Lappy had flat lined, the black screen of doom, the time of death pronounced by two very smart people.
I was hyperventilating between sobs, throwing pillows and curse words around the room like daggers. This could not be happening.
I pressed the reset button again and again…hit ctrl/alt/del until my fingers ached…desperate to resuscitate my dearest friend…frantic to breathe life back into its precious hard drive. But it was useless…it was gone. Dead. As in forever. And after barely having a chance to live. How could this be? It was only four months old for goodness sake!
My husband rolled his eyes at me and asked me to step away from the body. I begrudgingly followed his instructions…this was, after all, his area of expertise, not mine. I was a computer science drop out…an English major. My power over words would do me no good here.
It took the better part of the day, and a couple of wine coolers (for me), but my darling laptop is up and running again. Some say it was magic…some call it a miracle…I don’t care what you believe in, I have my friend back. My faith has been restored in my husband, and fleas or no fleas, he is welcome in my bed tonight!
As long as he promises not to roll over onto my laptop…that would be awful!
Until the next time…I’ll be using my newly paid for word processing software with a smile!