To all the things I’ve lost
I have this fantastic tradition of ringing in the new year by smashing or otherwise seriously degrading one of my Apple products. This year, I decided to go big and break my MacBook. I am one those deeply devoted cultists… I mean aficionados, who love their MacBook more than they love… bread. And trust me when I say, I might homicide someone who got between me and a freshly baked baguette. Especially if their intention was to pip me to the post for said carbohydrate.
This is a deeply emotional time for me.
In any event. I dutifully took my MacBook to the Apple Store, looked tearily into the technicians eyes and pleaded with them in a choked up croak to ‘make it work’.
Ha ha. I imagined they were going to whip out a tiny screwdriver, remove the cover, bang back whatever it was that had shaken itself loose. I’d hug them… eh… in my mind… because I don’t want their cooties (or their Covid), we’d both laugh because it was all so easy, then I’d pick up coffee on my way out of the mall and everything would be wonderful again.
My fantasies (and maybe my expectations) need some serious work.
Of course, just for them to have a look at it cost me… *counts on his fingers* eh… (there is a moment of panic when Joey runs out of fingers, but thinking quickly opens his calculator app) JESUS! Almost fifteen Grande Cappuccinos! That is obscene!
But, they did send me emails and periodic text updates to let me know how my baby was doing, and where in the process of redemption she stood… which was nice.
It was all going swimmingly. Until this morning when they sent me a quotation for a… LCD Display module. Which more or less costs the same as a new MacBook.
Which made me sad.
Like all cultists spurned (real or imagined) by their deity I took a moment to rage at the perceived injustice I’d been dealt… and swore I’d go back to PC.
That resolution, sworn with such steadfastness and determination lasted about an hour… before being swiftly eroded by the hightide of an Windows update.
Kill me. Kill me now.
Ha ha. I am of course being facetious. It wasn’t that bad. Also, I’m scared that if I talk smack about my PC and it decides to implode just to spite me I will be royally screwed… and writing out blog posts about how hard my life is with one finger on a iPad is not a state I wish to suddenly find myself in.
On the upside my glutes are feeling amazing. (I have no way to really segue this… so I’m just diving in… unlubricated)
I’ve been really struggling with my butt cheeks of late. I’ve been putting it down to saddle soreness and have been gutting it out, hypothesizing that if I just rode more, it would, eventually, somewhere along the line, work its way out.
In reality I’ve just been limping round the house like a freshly minted sodomite for what feels like the entirety of twenty twenty one.
This morning I did a 27 minute Yoga video on FitOn… one move… after some downward dog and child pose was a… I can’t remember the moves name… dead-bug death twitch maybe. In any event, I thought I was going to cry… but damn… did that fix whatever was wrong down there. I mean not entirely fixed… but fifty or sixty percent reduction in ambient zingy-ness.
There might be something to this whole stretching malarkey.
I mean its probably because I’m so damn old now. And old people have to be more cognizant about… I don’t know… warming up and stretching out their meat fibers and stuff. They probably also can’t eat two slabs of chocolate (chased with a Redbull) anymore without consequence. Getting old is the worst!
I miss my MacBook.