Ours is an existence that relies more and more on machines to do our bidding. Let’s explore this, shall we?
- I wake in the morning on time…thanks to my trusty alarm clock. I automatically hate whatever song is the first to break into my REM sleep.
- I stumble into the kitchen…where my trusty programmable coffee maker has brewed my java at precisely 6:01am. Not 6 o’clock…which is what I was aiming for and somehow overshot and then was too lazy to circle around another 23 hours and 59 minutes.
- I dress and apply my makeup whilst boogying to my iPod…enthusiastically belting out the words to Rod Stewart’s Forever Young: “For! Fore-e-e-e-everrrrr Yo-o-o-ounnnng!!!” in addition to about 20 other songs, as it takes me a solid hour to get my butt out the door.
- I bolt out the door and set my navigation (Nigel) to take me on a route I drive every. single. freakin’. day…but I still set him in case there’s an unexpected asteroid crash on one of my routes and I have to navigate around it.
- I arrive at work. I work on a computer (duh) with not one…but two 27-inch monitors and I enjoy flinging my windows from left to right and back again for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I also maintain a cutting-edge average of 17 tabs open…in both Google Chrome and Firefox…simply because I can.
- I remember to turn on my Walgreen’s Travel Humidifier to protect my delicate nasal passages from the harmful effects of the dry winter heat:
Yeah, sure…you think it looks stupid with that water bottle sitting on top of it. I thought so too, when I stood in line at Walgreen’s and absently waved away the cloud of humidified air from the unit they’d skillfully placed near the checkout. Meanwhile, two weeks later I was back on that same line buying one. I don’t give a crap if it looks lame or that my co-worker Danielle and I periodically roll our eyes every time we hear the *glug-glug-glug* it makes as it chug-a-lugs several ounces of water into its chamber…’cause we’ve got the dewy skin and moisturized nasal membranes of the humidified. Who looks stupid now?? (Don't answer that.)
- When you walk into Ric’s office and he says “Hi”, you can’t be sure he’s actually acknowledging you…and, in fact, he probably isn’t. Between the headphone for Skype, the Bluetooth for his iPhone and the speakerphone from the landline all going, chances are pretty good that the “Hi” was meant for one of the other three people he’s talking to. (Or six, if he’s on a conference call.)
- On the cusp of my ride home, I turn my cell from vibrate to “SAFE READER: ON”, which ensures a hands-free ride. I’m forever amused if I happen to receive a Project Notification from Guru.com (I’m still a freelance member, even though I have neither the time nor the inclination to freelance…but hey, I paid for a whole year). The female computerized voice states: “GURU DOT COM PROJECT NOTIFICATION! TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE- TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE- TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-TILDE-HELLOKATHRYN! (INHALE! GASP! SPUTTER!) It’s an absolute riot.
- I then arrive home and check my answering machine for messages I have no intention of returning, if I can help it. It’s the end of the freakin’ day and I’m freakin’ tired. Don’t these people realize I’m at work when they call?
(Yes, I’m aware that’s a lot of messages. In my defense, I do check my caller ID when I get home. I’ve been…busy. Anyone who’s anyone knows to call my cell.)
- Then I log into my computer and come here, whilst my handy DV-R scans the 327 cable channels for any unseen episodes of American Greed or anything whatsoever featuring Neil Patrick Harris, just because I think he’s adorable.
Then I go to bed.
Gee. I’m starting to understand why I freak out whenever we lose power. It all makes sense now…
Okay. Now you. Does your life mirror mine? C'mon...spill. You know you want to.