I'm posting this from my husband's computer. Why does using someone else's computer or cell phone feel like leaving the house in borrowed, ill-fitting clothes? Yes, there's a screen and a keyboard, but, ugh, they feel so wrong!
You may have guessed that I'm experiencing technical difficulties. Actually, I need a sign for my forehead that says as much. I'm desperately in need of an upgrade. I thought I'd share a little text conversation between Kory and I to kind of let you know where I'm at. This occurred at noon after a disasterous morning.
Me: I'm going to try to finish editing that story now. Deadline is today.
Me: My laptop just died again!
Kory: You'd think that an author could be more descriptive than just saying "it died." Was there any screaming? A parting monologue? What ailment did it succumb to?
Me: It went quietly into that good night. It did not rage against the dying of the light. Is that descriptive enough?
Me: Now your desktop screen appears to be frozen. Perhaps God is telling me my short story should remain unread. Should I power down and restart?
Me: Does the mouse have to be turned on?
Me: Mouse will not respond!
Kory: Is the red light blinking? Just take a picture and send it.
Me: Dead mouse.
Me: Dead laptop.
Me: Have no way to take picture of dead career.
Kory: There is a thin cord with a small rectangular connector on the end of it just to the right of my keyboard. It magnetically attaches to the mouse.
Kory: Career back on track?
Me: For the time being.
As you can see, Kory is pretty used to my dramatexts. I have to wonder if he ever groans aloud, shakes his head, and mutters, "Why me, God?" in the quiet of his cubicle. But he is always patient, supportive, and helpful.
Just like Queen Latifah in this clip, he sits in the rain with me, holding an umbrella and offering logical advice should I ever decide to quit dripping, turn around, and listen.