I should consider it a blessing that my wireless Internet refuses to cooperate with my new-ish MacBook. You may remember that my Titanium G4 laptop bit the dust in a tragic vodka incident last fall (may it rest in peace). The wireless worked fine with the G4, but no matter how many times I plug and unplug, start and restart, and follow my Mac’s a-four-year-old-could-master-this tutorial, the wireless fails to connect. I blame Comcast.
Really, it’s better this way. If it did work, I would probably waste my days lying in bed, participating in my favorite Web-based pastime, which is, of course, "armchair" stalking (though I suppose under these circumstances it would be called "bed" stalking... doesn't have the same ring, does it?).
Did I mention that I like to bring my computer to bed with me? That’s not too weird, right? Or, that I actually sleep with it sometimes? And by “sometimes,” I mean pretty much every night?
This tendency to cart my electronics to bed with me started in 2003, when I briefly took up residence at my mom's house in Columbus the summer before my big move to Chicago for graduate school. Rather than having an entire apartment to fill with all my worldly possessions, I had a bedroom, which, by default, became a general-purpose living space. This included turning my bed into a makeshift office, where all of my electronics lived… my cell phone, my Palm Pilot, a TI-85 calculator, and the G4. They slept on one side of the bed; I slept on the other.
This “arrangement” repeatedly proved to be detrimental to the wellbeing of the electronics. For example, at the time I was taking a statistics class—you know... just for like the hell of it—and while studying on the bed one Saturday afternoon, I dosed off and rolled over onto the Palm Pilot cracking the screen, which rendered the stylus completely useless.
The mishaps failed to deter me, and through multiple cities, states, and apartments, I have continued to lug my laptop to bed with me (though I never replaced my Palm Pilot, and eventually, I no longer needed the calculator). In my current home, the laptop sleeps on the left side of the bed, the side closest to the wall, and as a “safety precaution” I stuff one pillow between the two-inch space separating the bed from the wall and cover the laptop with second pillow. That seems reasonable, right?
So on Monday, when my computer and I finally shut down for the night, I tucked it in like always (snug as a bug in a rug) ensuring it's security until the next morning when I would immediately hook it back up to the Internet connection in the living room and check my email. However, in the middle of the night, I woke up, startled, when I heard something in my bedroom—something heavy—crashing to the ground. I immediately lifted up the pillow to find the laptop safe and sound. It had been my hair dryer, which often resides at the foot of my bed where it ends up getting kicked to the ground every night... somehow it still works.
It occurred to me then, at 3am or whenever it was, that my arrangement was lacking in the intelligence department, and if I was to seriously damage or murder another thousand-dollar computer, I would cry... probably uncontrollably. Unfortunately, while this reasoning made sense to my half-awake self, taking action did not. Instead, to compensate for my lack of brain's when it comes to taking care of my computer, I rolled over, threw my arm around it, and—yes—cuddled with the MacBook for the remainder of the night.
Ahhh... isn’t that sweet... Thank God I don't have pets... right?
I thought this was a sufficiently entertaining story to relay at work the next day, so, on the way to our biweekly staff meeting, I announced to a few coworkers that I have a tendency to take my electronics to bed with me, to which one of them replied:
“TMI! TMI!” Oddly enough, she actually yelled the acronym rather than saying, "Too much information..." and she's like... my mom's age.
I realized... wait a second... that kind of sounded like - you know - like I was talking about personal electronics. No, no. Rest assured, that's not what I meant. I was talking about real electronics... expensive electronics... though I suppose the personal ones can get pricey... I mean, you can spend...
You know what... FYI... life is not an episode of Sex and the City, and I really don't need to have this conversation with you... via my blog, anyway. It would be far more appropriate to meet at a swanky brunch spot and discuss personal electronics over mimosas and eggs Benedict.