I have a chair and ottoman with a small bookshelf on one side and a table on the other side. I sit here in the mornings when I get up. I drink my coffee, read, write, maybe sew a bit. My table usually houses half a dozen books, my sewing box, pens, a picture frame. I have never set my coffee cup on my knee before. I usually put it on the table, occasionally I'll put it on the arm of the chair. For some reason, last Sunday morning I set the coffee on my right knee, bent and standing up beside my computer which was resting on my left thigh. Of course in no time at all the coffee cup started to fall.
The way I grabbed for my coffee cup was the exact way I should have grabbed it if I wanted to spill the entire contents into the center of my laptop's keyboard. The computer immediately made two electrical-type noises and then shut itself down. I don't remember my response exactly, but I feel I immediately made two cussing-type noises and then freaked out.
I love my lap top. I have had it for five years this month. The month we got pregnant with LEM. It has housed my life for the last five years, the most full five years of my life. It has marker on it. The E key is broken, completely gone. I can still see breast milk on it in places. I have loved and abused, tortured and adored this thing.
We have a good friend who is a computer genius. He took pity on me and came to carry the laptop away. He felt sure he could get the hard drive recovered. He said he'd clean up the insides (he used more technical terms than that) and then after 72 hours he'd turn it on and see what happened. But, he laughed the few times I asked him if he thought it would work again. No.
Wednesday evening he brought my beloved back to me--in working order. I am having some significant internet issues, but everything else is there. And, I am hoping the internet can be worked out.
So, here I am with H's laptop, using clip art for images. It doesn't take much to set me back. I'll either get my laptop in working order or load pictures onto this laptop. Until then, I'll just do what I can, which is all I can do.
The moral of the story is ... obvious.