Missing My Mac
Do you remember Timmy and Lassie? Lassie had an annoying habit of running off, and Timmy was always waiting for her to come home. I feel like Timmy today. I’m waiting for my Mac to come home.
I feel my pulse returning to my body, and more importantly, to my fingertips. The delivery company just called me, and my Mac will be back home in just a few more hours. As you might recall, my computer broke down again last week, and I had to send it back to the Mac Mother Ship for repairs. Damn you, Steven Jobs! This is no way to treat a lady. Not having a computer has been tough. I’m a creature of habit, and I have a hard time writing anything on someone else’s computer. Besides, I do my best writing at my local Panera coffee shop. I went there today to get a bagel, and I almost started crying when I saw a stranger sitting at a table by my favorite window. The guy was surfing the web on his Dell laptop. Maybe my next computer should be a PC. Take that, Steven! No, no, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, Steven. My skin starts crawling when I’m away from my computer too long, and I get really cranky, too. Not that I’m addicted or anything. I can stop blogging whenever I want.