Saturday, June 13, 2009


Scene from the Irepair store some thirty minutes ago:

"How can I help you?"

I pull my MacBook from my computer bag.

"Well, I'm hoping you can fix my baby," I say, handing him the stainless steel shell that just yesterday hummed with life.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Well, I tripped and fell over the power cord and sent it crashing to the floor."

"Hmm..." he says, in the not-good kinda way.

He plugs the computer in and the power cord light flashes orange. Not a good kinda orange. The kind of orange that signals distress.

I sigh.

He tries to power it up. No go. He lifts the silver case to his ear.

"Is it breathing?" I ask.

"No. The hard drive isn't spinning," he says. "Do you have anything important on this hard drive?"

I sigh. "My whole life is on that computer."

"Hmm..." he mutters. "Well you'll have to leave it here for a diagnostic."

And so I leave it there for a diagnostic. I close up my empty laptop bag and choke back the tears as I leave the store.

It's not the 9,000 songs on my Itunes, or the 10,000 emails in my inbox or even the 6,000 photos in my Iphoto. It's that every piece of non-paper writing I've done in the past 4 years is on that hard drive.

I feel like a family member is about to die.

tall penguin


CyberLizard said...

we lost our son's first year of life in pix when our hard drive crashed. Been backing up to an external hard drive since.

i-heart-random-silliness said...

A powerful and terrible lesson. I really hope they can work their magic and get your writing back! I KNOW how devastating that can be! ((((Tall Penguin))))

Rich said...

I know that awful feeling well, alas.

It really is worth getting a Time Capsule: it's very reassuring to know that even if my MacBook dies I still have everything backed up. (Actually, I have it all backed up in multiple ways but the Time Capsule was far and away the least painful to set up.)

matt said...