Chance is my computer...the guy I have a love/hate/I'm intimidated relationship with. Chance had been behaving badly. He was exhibiting episodes of unwellness. Chance was disappearing when I needed him. He was clearly "unwell." Chance was experiencing spasmodic occurrences
of fainting, dropsy, miasma...and just plain uncooperativeness. Our inability to work together, which at best is tenuous, was becoming untenable.
I promised him that I would send him to someplace pleasant, a spot where he would be tenderly taken care of, a sort of Computer Spa. I promised that he would experience healing touch, that he would have a space and place to unwind, that any free radicals, metabolism imbalances, and/or cardio problems would be addressed.
I also promised that there would be no:
- juice fasting
- seaweed or mud packs
- seated meditation
- enemas or colonics
- chanting or group hugs
p.s. this morning when I came in to say good morning to Chance I found a little note from him:
I've scheduled your appointment at The Affiliation of Computers Who Are Owned by Bungling Idiots Who Try to Do Things Online.