Day 213
I need to tell you about my computer, the one I'm typing this on right now.
I bought this computer back in 2005, so in human years, he's now about 198. Like most men his age (and there can be no mistaking his gender), he takes forever to start up, an eternity 'til he's ready to communicate, and even once he's up and running, I never know when he'll go back to sleep--or worse, just die!
People who work in nursing homes and hospice care can see signs telling them when a patient is close to death, and computers often have this too, only it's a little easier to see. Where some nurses may note a certain look in the patient's face, their eyes glazed over, computers leave no doubt at all once they display their "blue screen of death". Well, my computer's blue screen of death has been happening for at least a year now, although it's been happening much more frequently the past month or so.
Carrying the metaphor one step further, doctors might inform the families of their patients, "It looks like this is the end now". My computer though? I was only given a pop-up telling me I've now lost all support from the professionals. It's like the doctor left a post-it note on a dying body, saying, "Okay, I'm outta here. Golf game at two. See ya!"
And so it is with great sadness I announce the end is near. My computer, who's been with me now for almost 10 years, is going to the great scrapheap in the sky. There will be no wake or funeral services. Not even a Shiva. Instead, I'll be taking him off all life support later this week, and replacing him right away with the hot new model I bought on Black Friday yesterday.
My new computer will also be a male, I've decided, but sleeker, sexier, and much faster than this one. In lieu of flowers, please send money to my credit card company. Thank you.
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