Mac and me

Add to the list another thing I now really miss: my stolen lap-top.
Damn that gang of thieves.
I know that's pathetic and sounds so materialistic. Forgive me. But that hunk of smart metal had become like a soul-mate to me during this time of tremendous upheaval.
I bought the Macbook right after I left my newspaper job, a year ago now, as a present to myself. The newspaper had loaned me a lap-top to use at home for years, so that was my very first one.
It intimidated me in the beginning -- so much smarter than I was. And it still was, of course, up until the moment it vanished, but I had learned to live with that.
We had spent so much time together over the past year.
First, in the apartment downtown where my husband and I moved in the States for six months after we were so lucky to have sold our house last summer. My husband wasn't there very much, since he was covering the U.S. election, so Mac and I spent hours alone there together, getting to know each other.
Then here, of course, and in Italy too, since we moved to Europe in February, so much time alone at home with Mac, writing, poking around, trying to keep up with home, with the news, with my old newspaper, with everything that felt familiar.
Then there's my photos, which I hadn't backed up. My son's playlist.
I wasn't ready to lose Mac this quick.
I have to replace him, I know. But this may be one of those irreplaceable-type relationships.
I don't feel I can splurge on a new Mac anymore. That was so last summer. So like someone with a job.
My husband needs a new lap-top too -- and he's working.
So I'll just go look for a cheapo, a deal, an inexpensive lap-top at some discount store here soon. When I can face it.
When I was coming home from my freelance job this evening on the tube, it hit me again that Mac wouldn't be there when I got home. That Mac wasn't there this morning either, or I would've written to you early.
It was such a pleasure to be with him. Which then made it so easy to be with you.