Staring longingly at the empty desk
it feels as bad as a friend dying, maybe worse
it is like a small bomb exploded
wiping out pieces of my memory.
It is like an addict, suddenly cut off from his drug.
All those documents I don't need
but knew were always there anyway.
The hardest part is picking up the phone
to tell people that my computer is not working
and - oh my god -
they have to call me on the phone if they want to talk to me.
My reliance on this machine scares me -
this electronic storage unit -
this keeper of memories and music.
7 days spent without my computer
I lived to tell the tale:
thank you for inventing back-up drives
and smart technicians.
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