The Windows Seventh Seal

I was just finishing a week of 12-hour work days, giving one of my clients a brand new website. It has been a long, involved, and complex project that has been in the works for two years. A period of stops and starts, interest and non-interest. All I had left to do last Monday night was create two small graphics, upload all of the files to the domain, and email him with the happy news that the site was at last finished...

I was exhausted and coming down with a cold, but I sallied forth, the completion of my quest tickling my fingertips.

My laptop screen flickered a bit and, thinking it was my ever-troublesome AC power jack, I tightened up the plug and continued with my work. I finished the graphics, saved my work, and opened my FTP program to upload the files. The screen flickered again, then went to black. Jet black. Midnight black. Deathly black. The Windows Black Screen of Death.

Because I could still hear my programs running as if nothing had happened, I didn't panic. I figured it was a screen issue, not an internal, suck-all-my-data-clean-and-spit-out-the-bones issue. Besides, with all of the meditation and positivity we've been exercising around here lately, I really couldn't bring myself to worry. Que sera, sera. Instead, I went to Lynette's desktop and began researching.

The next day my #2 son, a computer genius and former tech support guy, plugged an extra monitor into my laptop and everything was fine. I stored all of my most important files on thumb drives and transferred them to the old Dell laptop I used before I got the Toshiba. Life is back to normal, except that the Dell can't handle too many open tabs, videos, or several programs running at once. The Toshiba went to the hospital this morning and there it shall remain for about a week.

The point of all this is, I didn't crumble into quivering heap. I shrugged, smiled, and let it be. I think I may be learning something important about happiness.