An ode to a dear friend, my beloved Michael.
Ever since my parents gave you to me for a high school graduation gift, I knew we were going to have a long and beautiful relationship. An even better relationship than the one I had with the first laptop my parents gave me for graduation, which died a slow and painful death after being submerged under water for a long period of time.*
Anyway, Michael, you have always been there for me. When I needed to stalk someone via facebook or blogspot. When I needed to read Dooce even though my mom thought she was "inappropriate." Last Sunday, when I beat my father at Celebrity Gossip Trivia, I knew I owed my win to you, and all the hours we spent together browsing celebrity gossip sites.
When I lived in England, and was constantly freezing, I would sleep with you every night, curled around you lovingly as you began to overheat just enough to keep me warm.
It pains me to see you succumb to your addiction to viruses and bugs that make you slow. I know you are jealous of my relationship with your half-cousin, the internet, but that is no reason to make the internet not work. Can't we all just get along? After all we have been through?
I know I have done things to hurt you, darling, and I really am sorry about the diet coke spills on the keyboard, and for not replacing the missing keys that make capitalizing things, as well as typing the letter "d" much easier.
But I fear this is a parting of the ways, Michael. You refuse to function for more than 3 minutes. Sometimes, you cannot be convinced to wake-up at all. Spouseman has tempted me with promises of a new laptop, and even though I know he is just bribing me because he is jealous of our love and wants to get rid of you, I know that it is the right thing to do.
Sleep well, friend.
* so not my fault