From the Crow’s Nest
by CLINT YOUNTS
Who hasn’t wished for more hours in a day so you can get all your work done? No matter how hard you work, there’s always something left to do tomorrow. Where does all the time go? If you are like most folks who live in a house with electricity, I bet several hours a day are spent sitting in front of a computer, surfing the web, checking out friends and family on Facebook or playing addictive internet games.
I was one of these computer addicts, burning hours and retinas in front of a flat-screen monitor, flipping back and forth between Facebook and Farmville until the cows came home, hungry because I forgot to feed them. What I imagined was only a few minutes spent at my computer turned out to be hours. Time sure flies when you travel on the internet highway.
I wasn’t aware I was such a computer junkie until our friends at PEC held an intervention to stop my addiction by sending a power surge through our electrical outlet, killing my computer and putting me into a Windows withdrawal. How can I cope without a home computer? How can I communicate with the outside world? How can I harvest my crops and visit my Farmville neighbors? Can I survive without my computer?
Luckily my daughter married a bright computer tech who makes house calls. I recall a time when parents wanted their daughters to marry doctors, but seriously, do you really need a doctor in the family? What’s he gonna do if a family member gets sick? Tell ‘em to take two Tylenols and go to bed. But I’ve got a computer doc in my family who sped right over to examine my ailing PC. Maybe Chris can do CPR or jumpstart my computer before I get the DTs.
Unfortunately, he looked under the hood and shook his head. He looked me straight in the eye, advising me that I should sit down because the prognosis was not good. “I’m sorry to tell you this,” he says, “but she’s passed”. No-o-o! She couldn’t be gone. She was so young, so lively and active a few days ago, full off memory and megabytes. What happened?
Apparently a tremendous power surge invaded her innards and fried her motherboard. I don’t even know what a motherboard is. My mother had a wicked cedar switch she used on my behind a few times, but I don’t recall a board. Well, whatever a motherboard is, mine was fried like a chicken’s gizzard in a lard-coated skillet, and it would be a week or two before my computer could be rebuilt. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Perhaps it was time to start my Dell detox, kick my internet addiction and get this Microsoft monkey off my back.
The first few days were the hardest. I would find myself sitting at my computer desk, staring at a dark monitor, my hand holding a comatose mouse, right-clicking for a miracle. I tried watching TV, but even Shark Week couldn’t bring me out of my depression. I couldn’t sleep at night, knowing that my poor PC was lying on a cold workbench, her innards strewn about like a gutted bass, waiting for her transplant. Hopefully her hard drive was still intact, her memory of our years together still intact; but even with new internal organs, would she be the same? Will she still want to play Spider Solitaire with me for hours on a cold, dark night? Will she still play all those bootleg songs we downloaded together? Oh, how I yearned for my sweet PC.
A strange thing happened after a few days of my rehab. I soon found time after supper to venture outdoors, doing yard work or mending fences while the blistering sun was dipping down behind the trees, leaving the night air quite pleasant. One evening, I managed to mow an entire pasture before dark, freeing up time for me to relax over the weekend, floating around in the pool, soaking up sun and suds.
By day five, I found myself sitting in a comfortable chair, listening to music and reading a book instead of watching TV or craving a computer. I would often go outside and watch the deer and antelope come out from the shady woods to graze and frolic.
Some evenings, if it were dark, I’d just sit back and stargaze while listening to the cicadas and tree frogs sing in perfect harmony. I was successfully kicking my addiction and loving every precious minute of freedom. Then, on a quiet Thursday night, I fell off the wagon, realizing I needed my computer. I’ve got to get her back. I had a column to write.
It had been over two weeks since I wrote anything. What are all my thousands of fans (alright, maybe a half dozen or so) wondering as they thumb through the newspaper, searching for my bimonthly scribbling? People began talking, inquiring “Where’s Clint’s column?” “Has he stopped writing?” “Looks like they finally had that crazy redneck committed”. Countless cats haven’t had my goofy column lining their litter boxes, waiting to deposit digested Kibbles-N-Bits. As much as I was enjoying my newfound freedom away from my computer, I have an obligation to all you readers and housecats out there to get back to pounding the keys and write a new column.
So, thanks to my computer-savvy son-in-law and a brand-spanking new motherboard, I’m back! Just when you thought it was safe to read your newspaper without seeing my silly face, the Crow is back in flight and dropping senseless dribble onto your lap. At least your cat will be happy to see me again.
