Help! I am being held prisoner in a place with no electricity. We are converting old stuff to new stuff in an older house. The electrician insisted on shutting off the power. ALL the power.
I didn't miss the microwave (very much). Didn't miss the coffee maker (after the throbbing caffeine headache subsided). Don't watch TV, so that was no biggie. Didn't even miss the telephone (unaware that would go, too.)
BUT, here's the really big thing. In the past 18 hours, I have confirmed what I've long suspected. I'm a computer addict. A junkie. Hooked. Lined. Sinkered. Oxycontin? Rush can have it all. Need booze? Not so much. But my computer. Jeez Louise, it's my lifeline. My raison d'etre (sorry David).
Do you know what it's like to involuntarily spend a day without access to Kos and Arianna? To the New York Times (its evil and unpatriotic intentions notwithstanding)? Not a battery in the house fit our boom box, so couldn't even track the Bushie escapades du jour via the airwaves. Couldn't access emails from Harry Reid, John Edwards, Bill Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, John Kerry, MoveOn, the DNC, the DCCC, PFAW, ACLU, CD2, SD38, all addressed to me by name and pleading for my help.
I was forced to spend this day doing different things. I read the paper. Every section. I chatted with David. Did you know it's possible to have a conversation someplace other than your home office? In broad daylight? I thought the only way we could talk was with me seated at my computer desk and David leaning against the door frame.
I scrubbed the kitchen floor, which put me back in touch with my inner charwoman. Deadheaded a kezillion flowers. Turned on light switches at least a dozen times, with no good outcome. Not even once. When I felt truly desperate, I flung myself face down in the hammock and stared at the grass.
Meanwhile, my computer just sat there, silently. Even its little green "sleeping" light was out. The monitor was dark. Kind of like Cyclops with a really bad cataract. I desperately wanted it to surge back to life. I was reminded of the scene where a distraught Peter Pan turns to the audience as his last resort for saving Tinkerbelle and cries, "If you believe in fairies, clap your hands!" No, I did not, but it crossed my mind.
I am having a brief reprieve tonight. The electric company hooked us back up until morning. My fingertips are raw from racing back and forth across the keyboard. I have been thinking about staying up all night, to see if I can not only catch up but get so far ahead of myself that I won't care when tomorrow comes, and with it, more powerlessness. It is not a pleasant prospect.
My name is Barbara, and I am a computer addict. BTW, I don't see that changing anytime soon.