The cynic in me will tell you that Murphy is alive, well and building himself a bustling law practice these days. Yes, that's right. When it rains, it pours. Insult has been added to injury, and I am forced to admit: I'm a technocrat. I'm lost without the hum of a hard drive under my left hand. Why? Because my tired, tattered Dell Latitude has died.
Sure, I have an old desktop to fall back on, but I suspect it has emphysema from the way it wheezes and I feel guilty any time I install a new program on it--I hate to ask it to do more!
What pains me, of course, is the loss of all that data. No, it's not a permanent loss. I can take the old hard drive in to your nearest Tiger Direct and have everything transferred, but I dread leaving it there. It's like dropping a pre-schooler off at Day Care but the difference is that the little tyke's pockets are stuffed full of all my emails, photos and private ruminations. This kid is loaded for bear and ready to throw a tantrum while the techno-nerd behind the counter is already sizing him up for the takedown.
The worst part, of course, is when I come back to pick everything up. The techno-nerd is smirking at me (quick! How many photos did I download from "Naughty Koalas on Parade" and "Teddy Bear's First Picnic?"). He makes me stand there and wait while he sloooowly rings up the order and every techno-nerd in the back room comes out to look me up and down.
With the deed done, I take the walk of shame out to the parking lot where, properly chastened, I clutch the new hard drive in one fist, shake it at the rain-streaked sky and yell, "As God as my witness, I'll never forget to back up my laptop again!" At which point Murphy pulls up in his new Bentley, rolls down his window with a silken hum and says, "Hey buddy! Did you know you left your lights on?"
