Here Today, Gone Today

My computer came home today. I was expecting it to stay for an extended stay, but it had other ideas. It was just a teaser visit. Alec, the computer tech had me block out the day for his installations, reinstalling the back up drives, and other techie things I tuned out as my mind was cha-chinking the cash register. He e-mailed me at 10:00 to say he was picking up the computer and would be over by 11:00. One would think that if you had someone’s computer, you would know better than to e-mail them. He could have sent an SMS. I already have his mobile number in my phone, so it is no dark force secret I will use to stalk him.

They had to replace the C’: drive. They saved all of my data and put it on the new drive. I left him in the living room and was doing tasks in the kitchen when I heard him talking on the phone in a mix of English and Hungarian. Without understanding all of the words, I knew from the tone, it involved me and it was not good news. After he was here an hour, he meandered into the kitchen like a child going to the principals office. He got it all set up and it will not start up, as in there is not chance that the computer realizes it is plugged into an electrical outlet and wants to the voltage pouring through it. Nothing, all plugged in and no one is home. The wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead.

He said he witnessed it fully functional just this morning and shut it down himself. He had to take it back with him to the office to check it with a voltage meter. This is like a hostage situation a la the movie “Groundhog Day”. With the parting words of the governor of California, “I’ll be back” he drove off into the sunlight with my computer in tow at 12:30 assuring me to keep the afternoon free as he would return. By 4:30, I had that bait and switch feeling crawling about so I SMS’ed him. The response “read your e-mail”. Well, duh, why did I not think of that? The bottom line is that someday, I will see my computer again. It will have gone under major surgery, organ transplants, lifelines replaced, brain transfers, but it will outwardly look the same as before. It is reassuring to know that the box I have come to love the appearance of under my computer desk will still look the same as always without my having to get used to a stranger sitting at my feet while I work. When that day will happen is still anyone’s guess, but hope is everlasting.