Requiem for a Computer

I have been sans computer for the last little while. Ours finally bit the dust. Kicked the bucket. Keeled over. Went toes up. I guess technically [ha, ha] speaking, I could turn it on and use it for very brief periods. But the fans went kapoot, so it would start overheating and giving off a sharp electrical burn smell, which we figured was a bad thing. The poor old girl has been on its last leg for some time, but we were trying to eek out every last bit of life we could. 

Meanwhile, Jeremy has been researching a replacement. When I say, "meanwhile," he's really been at it for probably a year or more. We liked the idea of a laptop. It would give us portability. I could pay bills in my office [aka, the kitchen table], instead of hauling everything from one room to another and back again. We are also getting to where multiple family members need the computer at any given time, so a laptop would give us flexibility. We've been saving up some funds, and now with our not-so-trusty, hand-me-down computer officially dead, we went shopping today! Wheee!

Now, it's no big secret that I am a horrible shopper. I procrastinate every kind of shopping. I don't like spending money. I usually have buyer's remorse or feel guilty that I really didn't need [fill in the blank]. I get irritable and tend to complain a lot. But today I experienced a little bit of the serotonin or whatever feel-good chemical it is that makes shopping addictive for lots of folks. We walked out of the store with our precious bundle, and I felt a little giddy and might have giggled a little bit. That's not to say I won't eventually have some of the above-stated side effects when the serotonin rush wears off, but for now I'm enjoying the ride.

All this said, I have a soapbox item to attend to. Not having a computer for a few days was actually kind of nice. I did feel somewhat out of the loop and frustratingly disabled when it came to certain things. But I also felt liberated. The obligation to respond to emails vanished because I couldn't. I didn't waste time perusing Facebook or just staring at the screen wondering if there was anything I could browse. I read a really long, good book. It's true I'm already on the low end of the technology-use spectrum. I don't have any hand-held devices, including a cell phone. I usually only get on the computer once a day after the kids are in bed. Silence is okay with me. Maybe my withdrawal symptoms were muted because there wasn't much to mute. But disconnecting felt good. I think everybody should try it once in a while. Just walk away, maybe for a day. I have to say this today, with the experience so near at hand. Because now, with my sweet little laptop so easily accessible, I might have to remind myself how free I felt the week my computer was put to rest.

*Post Script: What has blogger done? They've gone and messed with everything, and I feel like a lost soul. Like, why are the spaces between my paragraphs so HUGE. Argh! I suppose I can exercise my adaptability, if I must.

Seriously

Way back when... let's just say 20 years ago or so... my little sister, Bethany, used to play a game with her friends. There are various versions of the game, but the way it worked for them was to look at each other with the most serious look they could conjure and take turns saying, "This is a very solemn occasion," until one or the other [or most likely both] busted up laughing. Me, being the sophisticated teenager that I was, thought they were pretty ridiculous and didn't get what was so great about the game. Flash forward 20 years and I have significantly changed my tune.

See, now I have kids about the same age as my sister was then. I first explained the game to Marissa a few weeks ago, and it quickly spread through the family. We have since had numerous duels of solemnity. The best was at dinner a few nights ago. We all had a major case of the giggles. We had to outlaw the use of "duck lips," as a preventative measure against smiling. And who can't help laughing when Morgan looks at you and says, "This is a very sodmelvacation"? Even my own sophisticated teenager joined in, but nobody takes you too seriously when your voice is cracking.

In between gasps and guffaws, I paused to look around the table, counting this as among my most treasured blessings, to hold on to that moment for as long as a plateful of spaghetti will last. Truly precious. Seriously.