Monday, my computer at work blew up. I have tried not to discuss it here, because it really shouldn't affect my personal world all that much, right? Right?
Monday I had hope that this problem would be solved quickly and efficiently by a team of dogooders from Dell. I went home early, expecting resolution on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I was quickly put in my place. There is no resolution, crazy workin' lady, you are screwed.
The part that caused the total meltdown of all that is good and holy in my work life is on back order. It should be recieved by the technician by 6 p.m. today. Which means that tomorrow morning said technician will call and schedule a time to come fix my computer. (How about yesterday, is yesterday good for you?) I think that in my head but on the phone I will be a blubbering mass of "Whenever is good for you, I don't eat lunch and I work until midnight, just please, please, please come."
Tuesday I worked without a computer and today I am on the slowest computer still functioning. There is a lag in my typing. MY TYPING!! This post will probably take me 45 minutes and I should be working, but my head will be exploding soon and then my lack of gainful employment will be blissfully unimportant.
I likened yesterday to being to without a leg. Sure, I wasn't totally helpless, but damn it made life hard. Today is like being hobbled by Annie in Misery. In the movie, I think she just bashes his kneecap in with a sledgehammer. In the book, it is much, much more brutal. I read it about 17 times over when I was a teenager just trying to make sense of all those painful sounding words. (And I didn't grow up to be a serial killer, so there.)
Being hobbled is better than losing a leg, because, Hey, you've got your leg. But it's worse, too. Because you think you can do things and then you find out you can't. You know you can't jump on a trampoline, but you think you might be able to half crawl out of that bedroom you're locked in. But then, you can't. It's a little of a tease, I guess.
I am being teased by my access to the internet, by my ability to print and type, by my having a keyboard thingy in front of me. But I can't do things. I can't accomplish things that are locked in my email or my hard drive. I can't listen to Pandora because this computer pre-dates speakers or some such nonsense.
My boss is afraid of me. She has never seen me frustrated before and today, I am frustrated in spades. She is worried about what will happen tomorrow. So am I. When you wish upon your star tonight, spare a wish for me. Wish that the guy calls bright and early as I am walking through the door tomorrow and promises me he'll be here by nine. 'Cause, what do you know, he developed that teleportation device.