Laptop Crash: Inconvenience, not Tragedy

inconvenience not tragedy

Once upon a time, I killed my laptop. It was an accident, more computer-slaughter than murder; but nonetheless, the thing was as dead as if I’d shot it.

Luckily, Charlotte Street Computers (all hail the mighty CSC!) resuscitated my hard drive and transplanted it into a case all its own. But what a frustration; using a borrowed computer and a USB cord to get to all my files was no fun. To be fair, I had other technology–and, ya know, pen and paper–to bridge the gap between the lifeless laptop and a replacement. I did not particularly like those options, but they existed. Anyway, it was truly NOT a tragedy.

It’s just. . . well . . . I was having a hard time remembering that. To remind me, I made a list of what constitutes a real tragedy.

  • Cancer is a tragedy and so are strokes.
  • Childhood cancer is particularly tragic: singularly and inimitably so.
  • Other diseases–those chronic and incurable ones especially–are tragic.
  • Fire is tragic, so tragic. Floods too. Those are horrific.
  • Wrecks can be tragic, though whenever I’ve been involved in one, it’s been merely inconvenient.
  • Terrorism, plus all forms of gun violence. Now that’s some tragedy right there.
  • Loss of income–that could be tragic. I mean, it would depend, wouldn’t it? If you have another source of income, if you wanted to quit your job, but couldn’t figure out how to do so, if you have family or loved ones who are happy to support you . . . well then, it might just be inconvenient. But often, loss of income can be tragic.
  • Loss of a pet, though not at all on the level of some of these, is a form of tragedy all the same, and certainly far worse than computer woes.

Electronic privileges temporarily revoked? That’s a situation that tries hard to act like a tragedy, but it just isn’t. It’s an inconvenience; annoying and time-sucking to be sure, but still, that’s all it is.

So let’s all take a deep breath. Take a moment to acknowledge this irritation. It is okay to be annoyed. Feel what you feel.

Now. Deal with what you can, release the rest, and move on. Don’t give this any more power over you than that.

By Aileen MItchell Lawrimore

Aileen Mitchell Lawrimore is a mother x 3, wife x 35 (years not men), minister, speaker, writer, retreat leader, and lover of beagles and books. She has a lot to say.