Crunchy Thoughts

Recently, my poor old iPod has been showing distinctive signs of a funky memory loss, very akin to Alzheimer’s. The data was there but the iPod would forget it was and I could not get access to it until I connected it back to my computer and it would go, “Oh yeah!” which would last for about a day or so. Yesterday, Steven and I felt a need to get out of the house so we figured we’d just take my old iPod — it’s four years old next month — up to the Apple Store and have their Geniuses of Power look it over. Why not?

We’re about to head out of the house when I figured I’d better grab my MacBook Pro as well. The Geniuses of Power might want to see the Alzheimer’s in action and my iPod will need a computer it knows. As I closed the cover on the laptop I realized how dirty it had gotten. How embarrassing! I wasn’t sure how elitist the Genisus of Power would be and I did not want them to see the little spots where Renton had touched his nose all over the casing.

I grabbed one of Lydia’s baby wipes and carefully wiped over the cover, then wiped down the trackpad, keyboard, and even the screen. Perfect. The Geniuses won’t be able to have one ill thought about me. My computer’s almost two years old and nary a scratch, just a nosy cat.

We arrive at the Summit and load Miss Lydia into her stroller. It’s the first time she’s sat in the stroller without being in her carseat as well so we’re amused parents. Our baby’s growing up. Now that the stroller’s not as loaded down with carseat we have easy access to the storage net underneath the stroller seat. A perfect fit for the laptop while we stroll around the Apple Store.

In the store I have to make an appointment with the Geniuses of Power and the next available one is two hours later. We have time to kill. Lydia is enjoying being strolled around — she has excellent visibility without the confines of the carseat — and Steven and I need whatever exercise we can get.

After we came out of Barnes and Noble Lydia was getting fussy for her pacifier, woefully left behind in the car, and I wanted to look at a store that was across the street. We headed back to the car to conduct the laborious process of getting Lydia out of the stroller, into the carseat, and into the car, then get the stroller into the trunk. How did the parents cross the street? With much complication.

I was opening up one of Lydia’s new books we got from B&N while Steven was closing down the stroller. I heard Steven say, “I’m not doing something right,” and I looked over to see him struggling to close the stroller.

My brain caught up with what was going on and I stuttered out, “Steven! My laptop!”

He pulled it out and handed it to me with a joke about how he had tried to bend it.

Only it was bent. The entire computer had the slightest of bell curves to it. “Steven, it seriously is bent.” A small metal part of the casing above the lid release button was bowed out.

We got in the car and I took off the protective sleeve to open up my laptop. Just to make sure. I knew everything was fine though, really. As irritated as I was about the metal frame, it was superficial. I can handle it.

I didn’t see the >metal dent on the lid, but Steven did. He says he knew then. I opened up the computer and in that second before the screen lit up, I could see there were two different colors of black on the screen — one normal, one more of a purply color in the shape of spilled ink. That’s when I knew. Then the screen lit up and we saw the damage in all its glory.

There was a long pause of silence in the car, then Steven and I both said a very bad word that we try not to say in the presence of Lydia.

My mind immediately shifted into denial/solution mode: shit happens, tax return forthcoming, hey we have an appointment already with the Geniuses of Power, new blog post, hey new laptop, at least it was the laptop we tried to fold in the stroller and not Lydia. Right? RIGHT??? *jazz hands*

Steven was in more guilt/I can’t believe I did that mode. If Lydia wasn’t with us, I think he would have been more than happy to sit down for drinks.

We slunk into the Apple Store near my appointed time. Despite the ‘Genius’ title I did not expect a miracle for my poor computer, only a confirmation of what I already knew. Oh how I wished my laptop was just dirty with wet cat nose spots. If they would think ill of me because of a dirty laptop, what will they think of this?

Decisions are much easier when you’re forced into them. So when the Genius of Power pointed us to a third party site where getting the LCD screen repaired is about as cheap as three of Renton’s vet visits I’m suddenly out of the corner I was forced into and I have a decision to make: fixed screen with dented-up outer casing (and worries that all that yoga could shorten life of hard drive and battery) or new laptop. Difference in price? $1,480.

No decision has been made yet, though I know myself quite well. I am no spendthrift, and knowing my propensity for the new and shiny makes this an even harder decision.

Until then, I will make do with either a computer from the technology graveyard downstairs or just stick it out with my half-blind Mac. After all, I’m typing this very post from it.

Yesterday at the Apple Store I did have them look at the iPod as well, now a minor issue in my life.

The iPod’s hard drive is failing because “there’s only so many times you can write to a drive.”

My computer was not needed to demonstrate the problem.

Now my computer IS the problem.