Back in the Game

Every legit blogger out there always harps on the importance of updating one’s blog frequently.

To which I say, “Oops.”

This time, though, I had a good excuse. My AC adapter broke while I was in Turkey, which means I’ve spent the last several days with only the antediluvian lump of technological impairment I borrowed from my parents before moving to SC.

A typical session with it goes thusly:

Me: *hit the turn-on button*

Computer: Blink. Stretch. Open one eye. Slowly, ponderously, begin to contemplate awakening to another day.

Fast-forward to 45 minutes later, when the computer has finally booted up to my home screen.

I click on the Microsoft Word icon, then skip off to get married and give birth to three babies, two of whom I send off to college, and one of whom insists on a life of beat poetry, but whose friends are much more interesting than those of Uptight Economics Degree Kid One and Oh-You-Poor-Foolish-Child-You’ll-Never-Get-A-Job-With-A-Psych-Degree Kid Two.

I return to my computer to find that in the 39 years alloted, it has just barely managed to eek out a blank Word document for me. . .bless its heart.

Finally, yesterday, my technological Neanderthal had booted up enough that I was able to order myself a new AC adapter. Or I would have, had I known that that was the part I needed.

Technically, the email I fired off to Hewlett Packard went something like this:

“My computer’s pluggy-in thing isn’t working right. I think it’s the box looking thing. It has all these weird numbers on it, which I’m just going to list for you in hopes that you’ll have what you need to fix it.”

I almost immediately heard back from Joshua, who is apparently fluent in Technological Idiocy.

“It sounds like you need a new AC adaptor. I’m sending one right away. Since your computer is under warranty, that will be no charge to you.”

I felt that this relationship with Joshua was worth exploring a bit more, so I explored.

“Dear Josh (may I call you Josh?), Thank you. I love you. You have no idea how much this means to me. You seem to possess the uncanny ability to understand me when I don’t even understand myself. Will you be mine forever? (My IT guy, that is. Unless you happen to be single, between the ages of 24 and 28, and the bearer of a striking resemblance to any male heart throb whose name is not Rob Pattinson, in which case you may read that any way you choose).”

Josh hasn’t written back, but he did deliver my new AC adapter in less than 24 hours.

This could be the start of a beautiful relationship.

At the very least, it might, just might, be the beginning of “That time in Lauren’s life when she was actually productive, because she finally had the means with which to be so.”

. . .On second thought, let’s not get crazy.


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