You know how sometimes you wake up with a crick in your neck and end up spending half the day walking around looking like you just found out someone’s cat died or, worse yet, like a “bug in an Edgar-suit” (Men in Black)? You catch yourself saying “it doesn’t hurt if I hold it like this” almost as many times as you curse for absentmindedly not holding it that way. If you’re lucky though, the next night you somehow straighten yourself out and don’t wake up the next morning with a crick on the other side. Yep, we’ve all been there I’m sure.
Well, my laptop has a crick. Seriously, I don’t know a better way to describe it than that. The other day when I got home from work, I noticed the screen was acting all funny. It looked sort of like an antenna TV that “rolls” when the rabbit ears are floppy … I swear sometimes flat out snow would be less annoying. Anyway, that’s what my laptop was doing. I, of course, panicked, thinking old reliable was finally done. See, I’ve had some issues with the power cord (on the 3rd replacement now) but have otherwise not had any problems with the computer. I’ve also been fairly convinced that the power cord issue is courtesy of a certain 2-year-old.
It’s a Compaq and it’s several years old, been through lots of versions of software and games, likely been dropped a time or two (or ten), not so infrequently pops a key (like a blouse would pop a button), and no longer has the rubber padding atop one of the “mouse” buttons. Nevertheless, it’s been good to me; generally reliable, almost always capable, and undoubtedly configured to my liking. Except now, it’s got a crick.
In my panic mode, I whined to Bryan to “fiiiiixxxx iiiiitttt” (and I wonder why the kids think daddy can fix anything, or why they whine for that matter). Lo and behold, he “fixed” it; well, that is, it ain’t rolling anymore and I can actually tell what’s on the screen. Problem is that the laptop can now only be opened to about a 45-degree angle and no more or the rolling ensues much to my shagrin.
So here I lay, with the laptop quite literally atop my lap, pressing my chin to my chest while simultaneously pushing out my gut (yep, there is one) in a fleeting attempt to angle the darn thing just so while I type. Lord, help me now … and forgive me in advance for all the curses I say tomorrow, most assuredly followed by “it doesn’t hurt if I hold it like this.”