It was just like any other evening around here. I sat in bed with my good friend Pearl as we chatted it up over a cup of ice water and a few blog posts. Maybe a Facebook comment or tweet here and there. She’s always there for me, that Pearl.
Since the words on the page were ending in that annoying fashion, I switched my water from my right hand to the left so I could use my right to scroll down. It was a simple move, really. Despite the fact that I’m a hard core lefty, using a mouse or touchpad is the only thing I can’t do with my left hand.
You know when things happen with lightening fast speed but in slow motion at the same time?
Mid switch, my left thumb clipped the bottom of my cup. It bounced to my right. Then into my left. And back again, where my right hand finally ensnared it in it’s grasp.
And spewed water everywhere, and by everywhere I mainly mean all over Pearl’s keyboard.
Some foreign gaggle of sounds emerged from my throat that may or may not have sounded like “Gaaauuugghhhhwaaaaateeeerrrrrssssshhhiiiiiiiit!”
My instincts honed from one year of Girl Scouts in the fourth grade told me to wipe the liquid away as quickly as possible. Thanks to my thoaty call for help, a towel appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but methinks my IT husband has heard that call of the wild before. I wiped and blotted, and there really wasn’t much, but within seconds it had turned itself off.
Pearl was in a coma.
Christian immediately got to work with his sexy set of mini screwdrivers and tiny flashlight. Also this apparently was a job for the shirtless.
“How did this happen?”
“I spilled my water!”
“I know, but how did you spill it?”
“What do you mean how did I spill it? I just spilled it! I fumbled my cup! That’s how!”
He disassembled Pearl.
I tweeted for help.
He yanked out my hard drive and inspected it for signs of damage, much like a surgeon removes a bullet from a wounded patient.
I tweeted a tweet of relief.
He removed thousands upon thousands of tiny screws.
“Don’t worry, I’ve seen this dozens of times.”
“And it’s usually okay, right?”
“But I’ve seen worse. When there’s a popping sound, it’s never good.”
“Oh! Mine didn’t make a popping sound! We’re saved!”
“That doesn’t really mean anything.”
So I facebooked Pearl’s possible demise.
He located my seemingly dry motherboards.
I got bored and started browsing MacBook Airs1 in the Apple Store.
He exclaimed, “Yay, your battery still works!”
I said, “Uh huh, that’s great, honey…” and made my move in my twelve Words With Friends games.
He put Pearl all back together.
I brushed up on this season of Private Practice.
He turned her on. We held our breath. The screen came on and…..
Nothing. I fear she’s dead.
And now I’m using a blasted PC.
1 Amazon Affiliate link, yo. That means if you buy a MacBook Air through that link, I may get enough to buy a photo of a MacBook Air!