Dear Benevolent Laptop Gods,
Dudes, I seriously owe you big time. What sort of worship and/or payment do you require for not smiting my laptop after Jonas accidentally tipped my entire glass of wine directly into the keyboard of my Lenovo last night? I’ve brainstormed a few things, so just let me know which you prefer:
I’m currently pretty happy with my first born son, but I might be talked into parting with my youngest if you can use him.
I’m also willing to put on a sandwich board with a laptop on it extolling the virtues of your mercy and love if that floats your boat.
I have several eggplants or too small heirloom tomatoes I could sacrifice on an altar for you. I’m sure I could rustle up some incense too. It’s the least I could do.
I’m fully willing and capable of renaming one of my cats after you. We already have one named Macintosh after the Apple Gods my husband worships. It wouldn’t take that much to switch her to whatever it is you go by, oh Patron Saint of Computing.
Lighting candles shaped like hard drives?
Liturgical dance depicting the magical world of the internet?
Or whatever else you can think of.
The point is, I’m grateful. I really thought when I grabbed my computer and tipped it upside-down and 4-5 ounces of chilled Pinot Grigio came running out on to the floor that the old girl was a goner. Yes, I got the battery out as quick as I could and left it to dry out, but I didn’t have much hope when Jason sat down to take her apart, screw, by itty bitty screw last night.
I’m not saying I thought about killing Jonas, but it’s not been a stellar week for that kid. I might have briefly considered a form of mild torture. Really, though, this one wasn’t his fault. I’ve learned my lesson about parking beverages right next to my computer *slides Diet Coke can away from the edge of the laptop*.
I don’t know what made you spare my computer. I don’t know why, when Jason finally got her open, there wasn’t any moisture in any of the important computing dohickeys. I like to think it’s because you appreciate a nice cold glass of white wine on a hot day as much as I do. But ultimately it doesn’t matter. We cannot hope to understand why you make the choices you do; we can only thank you for them when they go our way.
So from the bottom of my heart, my pocketbook and my sanity, I thank you, Benevolent Laptop Gods. Jonas thanks you, too. He knows it probably would have gone, with the flatscreen TV he destroyed by chucking a sippy cup at, on the list of things we will require him to pay us back for someday when he has a stable job. We all dodged a bullet here.
Love and undying devotion,