My laptop is still in the shop. Yes, yesterday I went, at 8:15 a.m., to the Apple Store on Boylston, and climbed three stories of spiraling glass steps, and left it in the hands of the Geniuses. And yesterday I climbed those steps again to to retrieve my computer. But they didn’t fix it. I was back again this morning, and have been assured that someone will be “throwing the book at the problem.”

Lance told me to go in and be a bitch. Demand justice. Refuse further payment. Get what I want.

He knows that’s not my style – actually, it’s the farthest thing imaginable from my style – but he recognizes that sometimes my style doesn’t necessarily get me what I want. Which is why, in our household of two, he is in charge of all phonecalls to Comcast, and anything bought on Craigslist.

I didn’t yell. I didn’t have to. Isn’t that nice about Apple? You don’t have to raise a big stink to be treated well. My laptop will be fixed, soon, and further cost will be waived. Hallelujah.

You see, I miss my computer. It’s not that urgent, phantom limb feeling; like being away from part of yourself, your electronic being floating around somewhere without you. I’ve had that before. This feeling is a little more subtle.

I miss my routines. My morning date with Open Office, where I wrote most days in the month of November. I wake up early, still, and find myself without anything to do. I go to school early. I make ridiculous 8:15 a.m. dates at the Apple Store. I’m a little listless. I miss the concreteness of knowing where my homework will be done – on the futon, or in my bed, at the table in the cafeteria of my school with a friend similarly plugged into her own laptop. My last paper was composed on five different machines.

I miss going to bed before Lance, turning on yet another Grey’s Anatomy episode and letting George and Izzy put me to sleep (the old episodes, when Izzy was still interesting and George was still geeky-dreamy).

I miss my blogs. I don’t do Google Reader. I just do bookmarks. And I miss those who I read, like friends I haven’t talked to. (Okay, I probably miss them more than friends I haven’t talked to, since I actually don’t talk to my friends all that much)

And what’s worse is that I keep forgetting it’s gone. I go about my life, and only when I throw myself onto the futon after a long day do I remember “Oh, my computer is broken” and it hurts.

So I read a book instead.

One Comment to “substitute”

  1. Yeah, I would read three times as much if I didn’t have a computer.

    Also, no Google Reader? I am gasping in astonishment.

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