Last Friday Mike yelled to me upstairs that he had just stepped on my bag and heard a crack. So I flew down the steps because I knew exactly what was in the bag and just as I had feared, it was a crack. A LARGE ONE.
I know this is my fault for being so careless to leave my laptop in the way of my husband’s foot, but it had been a long day. I had dropped my mom off at the airport earlier and Nathan spent the duration of our farewell kicking and flinging his shoes in the air and then removing his socks with his teeth. I had to push him on the stroller speedily, hoping that a fast paced ride would send this three-year-old into a trance and soothe the savage beast that thought the best way to show your MENSA worthiness is to USE YOUR MOUTH TO REMOVE YOUR SOCKS.
But the laptop is still functioning, even if the screen is splintered and cracked. It’s about five years old and the first computer I ever bought. The previous two were gifts, one from my sister and mom and the other from a boyfriend. I loved that first computer, a heavy bulky Windows 95 PC that came with one karaoke song and a microphone I could plug in. It was “And I Love Her,” from The Beatles. If you’re not familiar with karaoke, the lyrics are beamed on the screen and often accompanied by some tangential scenes that have nothing to do with the song. Fortunately, the PC karaoke song was innocuous, with some beautiful bikini’d woman walking on the beach then lounging by a coconut tree.
I’ve been in karaoke rooms where I’m trying to belt out to Alphaville’s Forever Young but the tv is flickering some Korean soldier’s flashbacks and I’m singing, “Fooooreevver younnngg! I want to be foreeeever young!” while a man is hallucinating that he’s back in the trenches but really he’s in the grocery store and I get it, it’s confusing. I sometimes think I’m outside in a storm when I’m really in the produce section listening to the fake thunder the grocery store uses to signal when their vegetable watering sprays are going to turn on. It’s like Narnia!
I’m bummed that my laptop is in this shape but I’m not heartbroken. It’s a old machine that got me through essays on Victorian childhood and my first real job resumes. But the sucker is heavy, almost 10 pounds. Since I have no upper body strength, it feels more like 20 pounds. When I lift Nathan, it’s like I’m trying to carry a full grown man. Besides, whenever I feel bad about something, I now have this gem to turn to:
You go, keyboard cat.