“How are you doing this morning?” asked the headphones on the other end of the line, presumably wrapped around a head that was still trying to wrap itself around a script.
“Fine,” I replied. But I thought this:
I’m in the ebb trying to flow. The moon must be waxing. Nothing works. The damn computer shut down again and won’t restart. It keeps cranking up but then shuts down, stuck in a loop. I began repairs, without complaining, by cleaning out the fans and filters. Maybe it can’t breathe. I’d protest too. One of the rubber feet fell off and now it wobbles. But I have glue. Where is it? Oh, yeah, I’ve been organizing, getting this stuff straight. It’s in the hutch drawer, second or third, probably third but I’ll check the second first just to note its inventory for a future search. I’ve been organizing. Yep, third drawer of the hutch. The 1898 hutch, that old beaute.
I can jump on the laptop if I really need to go, but the pen and parchment never fail me, except for when I’m out of ink, or when I can’t seem to find the damn pen or if I do the notebook escapes me and the right pair of glasses must be there, there’s that now too, but then if all three exist in the same place at the same time as me, within my reach, the thing I wanted to jot has escaped. Like my laptop, I was going to say that the laptop is there but before it can be of any use it needs to update this or log in to that and there’s a message that a system needs my attention and another that my ISP needs my attention, again, and my money. I must service them. Continually. I’m also a Corporation Service Specialist in all my free time. And I’m good at it. Corporations continually need my help collecting, and especially refunding, my money. Even extortion has become self-serve. Where was I? I have the laptop as backup if I need to hit the keyboard or jump online. Oh yeah, my computer won’t start. I’m cleaning it first, that’s where.
I go to the shed for a little compressed air to blow out the fans and so forth. The lock is frozen. Shit it’s cold out here. Even in the analog world I’m locked out of my own stuff. A little rage boils up, not enough to spill my coffee, just enough to go Hulk on the lock and break it open. A little Iron Man would have done the trick, some heat to coax the lock would have sufficed, but I was already distracted and being pulled away from my practiced calm. Breathe. Ah, I feel better. Ah, it’s so brisk out here. And it makes my coffee taste so good. I take my glove off to grab what I need and I’m on my way. Damn this glove got cold so quickly. Somehow that made me feel better, sliding a cold hand into a colder glove. I was reclaiming my calm, going with the flow which was ebbing. Slowing it down, quietly (where’d I leave my headphones?–doesn’t matter right now) I pulled the shed door closed to latch it and crash… What the? Oh, a box of nails fell from above. Only a tick of rage this time, a loose spark left over from the frozen lock obstacle. No big deal. I just need to set everything down for a moment, sip some of that coffee because it’s getting cold, bend the knees, I still have to work out and stretch out this morning, and pick up scattered nails. But wait, Iron Man, I have Magneto for this very job. But where is it? I know it’s here, right here somewhere, I know that it’s within a step or two of the door. There it is. Zip. All done. Picked up all the nails at once with the big magnet and scraped them back into the box. Precisely why I bought Magneto in the first place, years ago, for this very moment, now within a step of where I needed it when I needed it. Amazing.
Okay, back to it, grab air, clean fans, glue rubber foot back on, reconnect cabling, hopefully restart, troubleshoot if not, log into this or that, update this or that, address random issues, reset, and do whatever it is that I set out to do before the computer wouldn’t start. Oh yeah, look up an account number to satisfy a corporation’s query and also the number of the correct windshield wiper for the car. I still have to do that too. And oh yeah, write. And put away the tools and de-ice that lock. Good thing I don’t have to write at the moment. Good thing I’m not a writer now, as I flow in the ebb, as I watch the moon and learn to wax with it, as I service the systems and feed the machines. Good thing I didn’t have anything to say this morning. Mmm, coffee’s good. It’s probably cold by now but I’m sure it’s good, wherever it is.