Ahm BACK!

Of course you remember the old adage, “tiptoe quietly past an irate bunny.” Or perhaps you are more familiar with this one – “A rabid rabbit is rarely really rational.” (Repeating this one while holding your tongue with three fingers is often used as a sobriety test in parts of eastern Canada.)

And of course, everyone knows the one that goes, ”Toads give warts, bunnies give hickeys.” But this one is beside the point here. I don’t know why you’d ever want to bring it up.

In other words, didja notice I got my computer back? Didja notice? I’ve been without it for a week! For a week I’ve been staring at the clean spot on my coffee table. Twice I’ve gone to the library to slip out a meager message to you on computer #16, only to end up fascinated by watching the grubby child sitting beside me, as he systematically destroyed the world on computer #17. (I think his mother must be Adolf Hitler. Her mustache looks far too familiar.)

And then – yesterday – Thoracic Thursday, the skies parted, and the laptop guy descended, handing me my IBM ThinkPad with the blessing that all 704 demons had been driven out of it.

Can you see it? I’m free – free! My world is no longer limited to my wife and the neighbor’s dog. With trembling fingers I unwrapped my prized laptop, noting that even the peanut butter smudge between the “V” and “B” keys was now missing. Can you even begin to appreciate the thrill I felt as I gently but eagerly caressed the button that would send me magically into the internet?

Can you sense the gall, the indignation, the despair of unjustice I felt when the screen flashed back at me - “not connected to the internet.”

Unbelievable. No fate could be that jaded, that cruel. Again I punched that button, and yet again. I had the feeling that the computer was playing with my trust and innocence. A sly smile was forming around its disc port.

And thus it was that this morning, like some great hoary hairy avenging angel, I descended into the lair of the lying laptop letch, my words sounding almighty in my own ears.

“This doesn’t work!”

Unruffled, this wizard of widgets took my precious word messenger and descended into the depths where only such creatures were wont to go. For twenty minutes I paced the front of the store, alone, my only companion being a surly German shepherd who largely ignored me while he played a game of French poodle apartheid on a computer designed for his paws.

I barely noticed the return of the man, so representative he was of the race he, uh, represented. In one hand he held my laptop, in the other he held a white cord, and in the other he held coded instructions for the dog to attack Australia next.

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer,” he mumbled in a most gleefully self conscious way.

“What,” I replied. I was incredulous.

He handed me the white cord. “This is the problem.”

I took the cord. “This is the cord that connects my computed to the phone.”

“Yup,” the man replied. “That’s bad. Needs to be replaced.” With one foot, he appeared to be studying some mathematical equation woven into the pattern of the rug.

“Do you mean,” I was searching for both clarity and sanity, “do you mean I just spent $175.00 to have this thing repaired when I could have done the same thing by replacing a $2.15 cord?!” My voice ended with a decidedly upward inflection.

I received a sad and knowing look. “Yup,” the man replied. “That’s about th’ size of it.”

I don’t honestly remember my response. I don’t even remember how I found my way home. I have no words to express my feelings. My words are inadequate. Only in the writings of the Princess Samantha can I find what even approaches my depth of expression.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaargh!!!!!!!!!!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOO eeeeeeeeeeeeee (snarfle snarfle) Uuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhh! (Cough hiccup).AAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!”

And that about says it all, doesn't it? Whew. I feel better now. Thanks for hangin’ with me.

JB