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Ball and Chain

May 5, 2010

I’ve always hated the phrase “ball and chain” as it applies to a spouse. I hardly think that my DH (that’s a little knitting abbreviation there…apparently myself and my fellow knitters are too busy knitting and purling to spell out “dear husband”) is like a giant metal weight around my leg that I drag around on a regular basis. “Trouble and strife” is no better, but at least it rhymes.

My laptop, on the other hand, is totally the big, ugly iron weight strapped to my ankle. We call them “laptops,” but the truth of the matter is that we’re not really supposed to sit with them on our laps, as that could cause unsightly thigh burns. Nor are laptops the portable marvels that many people seem to think they are.  My laptop weighs about the same as a small animal, so carrying it around with me is like transporting a toy dog everywhere. Except, ok, my laptop doesn’t bark. Or poop. Thank God for that. On the other hand, a toy dog doesn’t have extension or USB cords or a mouse that need to be transported along with it. Also, a toy dog can, in theory, walk by itself.

My “desk,” if you can call it that (it’s a coffee table, and I sit on the floor), is right next to two large windows. My back door, that opens onto a small porch in the back yard, is right in front of me. I can look outside and see the newly green branches of maple trees swaying in the spring breeze, dappled by sunshine. But I can’t drag my computer five or six feet out the door, because then I would have to unplug all kinds of vital things and sit with the machine on my lap or on the ground. Both of these potential locations seem like they could lead to breakages if I’m startled or just not thinking.

So I’m stuck inside working this summer, until I can come up with an ingenious way to move my computer onto the back porch during the day. If only it had wheels. Or legs.

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