Home is where the Mac is

It was a rough week for us in both expected and unexpected ways. I thought I’d miss blogging and feel disconnected, which I did. What I didn’t realize was that my apartment would feel empty without Mac. This was mostly because of the silence left behind by the absence of iTunes, but there was also the element of having one of my preferred modes of communication - my link to the outside world - severed.

While I was home pining away, Mac was received in Soho then promptly whisked away to Memphis.

I almost didn’t recognize Mac when we were reunited today. Mac ended up getting a makeover and came back with a new case and logic board. Mac looked so good I thought it would be like meeting a stranger, but after powering on I realized it was the same old Mac. Same sweet Mac, but we had a lot of catching up to do.

Once we got home Mac told me all about the trip to Memphis. While getting cozy and having some tea, Mac shared memories of adventures on the road. I got to hear stories of pink bubble wrap, miniature purple unicorns with Philips Head horns, a compressed air fly-through, and a FedEx guy with hairy calves.

Mac told me the logic board change had been traumatic because identity and keyboard are tightly linked. The new keyboard is just like the old, so I told Mac not to worry about it, that I’d type away as I always have.

Welcome home, Mac. We’ve got a lot of work to do.

All out of Love

Sometimes a relationship develops and you have a hard time imagining yourself apart from each other. Maybe you don’t spend every single waking moment together, but when you’re together things just click, everything is magical, and you go places you previously hadn’t imagined you could go –without leaving the bed.

Then, with no warning, it can be gone. Sure, there were signs, but you wanted to ignore them. That quick response to the touch is not there anymore and you want it back. You know it’s expected after three years together, but you do what you can to salvage what you had.

So you make an appointment with a specialist, you go over your problems, and he tells you it will be all right.

“We’ll have it shipped to you in three to five business days,” was what he told me last night.

“Did you back it up? Is it ready to go?” he asked. I responded with a weak nod and reached out to pat the case. He laughed. “Everyone does that,” he told me.

I walked out lost and confused. I have a loaner from work, which is how you’re hearing from me. I’m glad not to be completely on my own, but we have the awkwardness and hesitancy of forced intimacy between strangers without the joy of a new beginnining.

We both know this is just to satisfy a temporary need and not the real deal.