Smoke

I took a five-day hiatus from my career last week to sit on the couch and be a full-fledged potato. I sent my daugther to daycare; Mike was at work. My job was kind enough not to call. I didn’t check a single e-mail. As a matter of fact, I tried not to touch my computer at all.

There are a couple of things that kept me from becomming a technological illiterate during my vacation. The first was my church’s anniversary ad booklet, which is a blog entry all to itself. It’s funny how church folks are harder to deal with than the average joe.

The second, something that would make you proud I’m sure, was a promise to work on my writing. I kept my laptop close by in case inspiration hit. And I didn’t do too badly; I keyed out a few good ideas.

And the inspiration kept coming. When I reached for my laptop to start on a new entry, I didn’t see an ink pen hiding on the TV tray behind it. When I opened the lid, then pen got caught in the hinges. There was a spark, and the screen went black.

I smelled burnt plastic, and I saw a small cloud of smoke billowing from the bottom of the screen. My laptop went up in smoke, and so did my inspiration.

I spent two days trying to remember what was on that machine. The list was a lot longer than I realized. Photos of Mini Me. My taxes for the last four years. Half-finished blogs. The good news is, the computer folks at work were able to salvage most of my docs. The bad news is, I need a new computer.

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