Monday, I almost died. I’m lucky to be writing this today, and you’re lucky to be reading it.
It began around 8 a.m. On Monday. Remember? The day I almost died.
The internal wireless card in my lap top abandoned me. I was without internet on my computer all day. ALL. Day. It’s almost enough to make a girl decide the word internet deserves to be capitalized after all; but not quite.
My lap top is an entire three years old now, and the extended warranty has run out, so I guess I should expect it to start falling apart, but that is of no comfort whatsoever one can’t get to one’s email and blogs and and important breaking news about whether or not Brittney was wearing her panties that day.
Truthfully, my wireless card began going on a brief hiatus here and there some months back. Each time it would decide to take off, however, it was usually in the late afternoon, after school was done for the day and shortly before McH would get home from work. McH could always coax that card to man up and keep its commitments to me. Then, for a while, and for no apparent reason, it decided to stop being such a tease, and led me to believe it was in this thing for the long haul.
Now? NOW? We’re plugged in to the internet. PLUGGED. IN! The inhumanity. I can no longer blog in bed.
McH says the wireless card is part of the motherboard (What?!?! You mean Motherboard is not just a character on Cyberchase?), which means the motherboard could be dying. That, of course, would mean we would need a new computer. Classic us: we reluctantly go out and buy a new dishwasher and freezer and then the computer decides it’s had enough and wants out.
In other computer problem news (minus the hyperbole):
If McH doesn’t take a new job before he travels to Vietnam, his boss is going to send a company lap top and international cell phone with him in case they need him — while. he. is on va.ca.tion. adopting. our. baby!
Shout it with me now: WHAT?!?!?
Have I mentioned before that McH has been on call 24/7 for the past five years? Have I ever told you about the many, many phone calls from his company to my hospital room the day after my emergency c-section? Or the many, many phone calls in the middle of the night? Or the endless nocturnal buzzing of the pager? How about the fact that I don’t think he has ever taken a day off in five years without getting at least one call from work to deal with some issue that Bubba should be able to deal with, but can’t? And now they want to keep him on a short leash during the literal adoption journey?
What would you say or do if you were McH?
On the up side, my mother is traveling to Vietnam with McH, and she looooooves to answer phones.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.