On August 4th, 2008, I knocked over a full glass of diet coke all over my MacBook. Sparks flew (I shit you not), my computer made a dreadful sound replete with death, and it powered off.
I immediately flew into action: I flipped it onto its side, took out the battery, dried everything as best I could, and prayed.
And then I promptly made and missed multiple appointments with the Apple Genius Bar. I had had horribly depressing conversations with various people at Apple over the phone. Talk about doom and gloom. Out of pure cowardice and avoidance, it was just easier to stick my head in the sand.
So I've been using my back-up computer the last few months - an obsolete iBook with sticking keys and insufficient memory.
This morning I went on apple.com and looked at the new MacBook, and went weak in the knees. Pure, unadulterated DESIRE consumed me.
Which, of course, led me to think: now that I covet something else, it probably means my diet-coke soaked laptop should start working again.
So this morning, I dusted off the battery, inserted it into the laptop, plugged in the power, and pressed the "On" button.
Long story short, here I am, typing on my resurrected computer. All my files are intact. The battery isn't holding a charge at all (am hoping that just means I need a new battery), but everything else is behaving beautifully.
Now, if my stalker were to get me that new MacBook instead of useless pieces of expensive jewelry... I'd still ignore him but at least I'd keep it rather than continue winning Best Daughter of The Year awards from my mother.
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