The Grandmother exploded in frustration yesterday because in all this mess of re-hauling the house the doorbell stopped working. I came down the hall to a lively explanation of running to and from the door to have no one there. Were there kids playing pranks and ringing the doorbell and running? Was the doorbell now a super hero doorbell that had supersonic sensitivity and could be pressed by a gentle wind? To make matters worse, the doorbell must have been shorting out so that it was only sounding the first tone. It wasn’t even committing to a full ding-dong! What is the world without a full ding-dong???
The Mom and I were attempting to calm her, since it has been a rough week with the house ripped up and everything in a different place. I explained I hadn’t heard the doorbell problems, but if it didn’t stop we could definitely go purchase a new doorbell for very little money. Once everything settled down, The Mom went back to work painting and I was boxing up some pictures. Then The Grandmother exclaimed that it was happening again! Did you hear it? Did you hear it? A single tone doorbell with no one to greet you!
I still hadn’t heard anything that sounded remotely like a doorbell! I started to wonder if I had not only gone crazy but had lost my hearing. Why couldn’t I hear something so loud as an old doorbell? That’s when I heard the email ping from The Mom’s iPhone. Needless to say… The Grandmother is no friend to technology newer than the cassette player. The idea that a phone could make a noise that threw off the entire day? That was absolutely unacceptable… (but pretty hilarious for me!)
I’ve never been particularly graceful. In fact, I’m quite well known in the family for never looking before I sit – for never anticipating just how far a dish is from the edge of the dish-holding-surface, and for always taking the opportunity to break a bone whenever humanly possible. I am not a princess. I would never feel nor find a pea set beneath a tower of mattresses. I am simply me.
This is usually hilarious for the innocent bystander, but sometimes pure catastrophe strikes when I walk into a room. For example, when I was eleven I walked into a room and promptly sat upon my clarinet. Those don’t make it through battles with one’s butt. Just putting it out there. I was mortified and wept for approximately 3.2 days before The Dad and I set out to fix the situation in pursuit of greater talent with a greater clarinet.
I have also baptized several cell phones. If someone asks, I tend to practice the value of “full immersion.” No baby spritzing over here. Nope. I washed one. Dropped one in a hot tub. I even threw one across the room on accident. It is a total wonder that the iPhone I now obsess over has stayed in one, dry piece as long as it has.
But I think the cherry on the catastrophic sundae happened this week. I was intensely watching the ending of reality show zinger, and I reared back in surprise and awe of what just happened. My particularly endowed, womanly self then knocked the entirely-just filled-full glass of water all over my beloved MacBook Pro. A wonderful bout of cursing that would make the grimiest of sailors proud and some quickly drying and praying… and I had to walk away. (Leaving the power supply connected and thus frying my baby.)
Just as clarinets do not do well with butts… laptops apparently do not do well with the bewbs.
My sweet baby and I have been through a lot. I bought her with my very own money – focusing every bit of a research stipend towards the expensive and very awesome contraption. I then completed a bachelor’s degree with her. We survived horrific set theory problems, nasty history papers, and a senior thesis. Along with Sybil, my new desk, we were going to go after a PhD together. Hand in microchip, we could take on the world! And here I am mourning her untimely and grizzly passing.
I now have joint custody of The Man’s computer, which is an adventure all on its own… Hopefully this saga of sadness will lead to a brighter future. Until then, let us have a moment of silence for my dear computer. My right arm in life. My partner. My friend.