I’ve been laying low early in this New Year as seems to be my tradition just as is fixing everything that falls apart around our house over the holidays.
Fluttering fluorescents in the basement. Toilets not flushing. Shower drains not draining.
Let’s not forget the gap in the garage door that provided entry to the winter winds. And, apparently, a family of field mice. They made themselves at home in a basket of winter hats and gloves then noshed on salt-and-pepper pistachios from the pantry shelves. They even had a mobile home, a fact I learned the first time I put on my ski boots and found pistachios … among other, um, stuff.
Then there is my so-called “work life.”
My laptop, after five-plus years of loyal service, is on life support. In the past few months the power cord has developed a habit of randomly not providing current, the battery had to be replaced and the screen frame cracked. Worse, of late its performance has all the consistency of Axl Rose when he’s off his meds.
At least, for once, I know my eggnog-enhanced hindquarters were not responsible for this casualty.
So while I wait for the Staples delivery man to bring me Temper-Pedic pleasure for my posterior and drive myself insane by over-researching new laptops, you may chew on this:
Please click over to DadCentric and read a piece I wrote about a North Texas father who pretended to be a gunman to expose security flaws at his child’s elementary school.
Then give me a recommendation on a non-Apple laptop. I could use a few more opinions to overwhelm and confuse me.