No, my computer has not made a miraculous recovery. In fact, it is about to spend a few days with Molly, who has plans to give it a computer high-colonic. Hopefully this will clean it out and help us all to feel better and run smoother.
It's sort of funny, because I can remember our first computer, and the hassle just to get on the Internet - the funny sounds, the interminable wait, and then the frustration at being cut off because somebody picked up the phone or the whole thing just quit. Now I can hardly wait a nanosecond for anything.
I also remember not having a cell phone. How on earth did my family live without the ability to contact me at any given moment? How did I do without this invisible umbilical cord that connected me with my children at all hours?
Maybe progress is about perspective, and remembering things like typewriters and house phones. Remembering writing letters and sending rolls of film to the developer. Remembering what it was to patiently wait, because waiting was the norm.
In this high speed, connect now, instant message world, I need to remember to stop and wait. Sometimes it's not doing more in less time that matters - it's doing less in more time that is truly rewarding.
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