When my husband was in Florida two years ago he brought back an iPad for me as a surprise gift. At the time I didn't really know many people who owned one, and I hadn't used one before, but very quickly my Pad 'n' me became inseparable - well, at least closely attached. It came with me on every trip I made, and when we went to New York later that year it was the only "computer" we brought with us. It was all we needed!
While in NYC we went to the Apple Store on 5th Avenue to buy two MacBook Pros - one for our daughter Julie and one for me. Oh, how I loved my Mac! Several steps up from the Pad, though they're both useful, and the Pad was still my travelling companion No 1.
Then came a Sunday in February last year. I had been out walking with my two beautiful granddaughters in the faint winter sun, and we were looking forward to cooking dinner and having a cosy time at my house.
Cooking, talking, running around, having some wine, serving my granddaughters something to drink - did it strike me that Mira was watching a series on my Mac? I think it might have. While I was busying myself over the saucepans, Mira came up to me and said in her quiet way, "Your new computer has stopped working now, Mimmi." "Why?" I asked. "Because I spilt my drink in it," she said, frank as usual.
I screamed. I tore at my hair. I hyperventilated. I went totally hysterical. I bolted upstairs where my husband was packing for his annual golf trip to Florida. He barely managed to decipher what I was blubbering, and when he did he pointed out: "Your own fault. You should know better than to give them a drink when they're next to a computer. You yourself spilt white wine in one, remember." "But that one survived!" I cried. "PCs can take A LOT more than Macs! Macs are so sensitive and delicate! And you should take pity on me, not scold me!!"
ANYWAY. Long story short: 1) After the initial shock I held Mira close and explained that I was sad and upset, but that it was basically my fault for giving her a drink next to my new Mac. 2) The Mac would cost more to repair than to replace. 3) It turned out we had some kind of super-insurance and I got nearly two thirds of the money back from the insurance company. 4) This taught me NEVER to serve either food or drink anywhere remotely close to electronic equipment.
These kind of mishaps are educational too. They make us put things into perspective. They actually force us to philosophise on what's important in life. Two of the people closest to me said this to me after the decease of my Mac (I definitely needed therapy):
My husband (on the phone from Reykjavik on his way to Florida): "Put it behind you. It's only materialistic. It's replaceable. It's not a matter of life and death. No one's harmed." Always pragmatic.
My soulmate Grete, on my terribly guilty conscience after "blaming" Mira: "Allow yourself to be angry and upset. It's normal. And you didn't blame Mira - the first thing you did after you'd finished being hysterical was to explain and to comfort her. Life goes on, my dear."
The stream at the bottom of my garden today - proof of melting snow! Bleak and grey pre-spring, but the snow has finally disappeared from my neighbourhood.
It's water under the bridge now, but it's a good story, because everyone can identify with it. We've all had similar experiences, we've all had accidents and mishaps. My dearly loved grandmother always said to me when, as a child, I broke something, spilt something or lost something: "If this didn't happen, we'd never get a chance to replace it."
(By the way, the dead Mac was resurrected. By Grete's son William. In fact, I think it's still alive).
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