Computer buy shows inextricable connections of life

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."

        Blanche Dubois



"Hey, stranger, come here often?"

        Anonymous



"Strange, I am once again clueless."

        George Ayoub



When you quote yourself, how good can the column be?

Come to think of it, how good can it be when you lead with a question?

Bear with me, please.

I'm about to buy a new computer, my old one now a wheezing hulk clicking and popping and taking up space on the desk in my office at home. One of my technological betters tried emergency surgery. It came months after she had installed a new hard drive, which turned out to be the equivalent of a human pacemaker with a short warranty.

Two things have occurred to me as I have spent the last three weeks untangling cords, letting my e-mail pile up and swearing at inanimate objects.

"Work, you dirty #*&%@&%$!"

First, I now suffer from home computer dependency, the irreversible habit/lifestyle of being affixed to my PC, shackled to bits and bytes and the kindness of technical support. Like television and regular unleaded, I can't imagine a life without a computer in the little room at the end of the hall.

Second, I will be buying said right arm from a stranger.



Working, jammies

As the old computer (Have you noticed how they age as you unpack them?) was heading south, my very wise wife -- bless her banker's heart -- went about vetting the details of buying a new one.

She asked if we really needed a home computer.

Shortly after my overreaction, I recited a roster of neediness, from e-mail to the class reunion booklet I'm working on to the music downloads to social networks to the endless -- and, might I add, primarily aimless -- surfing of the Web.

To these staples of home computerism I added papers our son will write for school; maps and directions and that whole Google Earth thing; and the ability for me, as a writer, to work from home in my jammies.

I'll not bore you with the rest.

What happened, however, was that I realized that I had built a lifestyle not around the computer, but rather running parallel to it.

Yes, I thought, I needed one at home. The soundtrack to "Terminator 3: The Rise of the Machines" slipped through my airspace.

While the truth settled in, a more frightening scenario was presenting itself: I would be ordering my computer online from a posse of cyberstrangers in inbound customer service, processing and shipping.

Granted, I checked with friends about the computer and read reviews (online, of course, and written by strangers), but when push comes to shove, I will be signing on the dotted line on a (borrowed) computer screen.



Simply moving

That's how we conduct plenty of business these days. That's not a complaint but rather an observation.

Yes, I do have options locally, but in the scheme of things (translation: cost and availability), I will be depending on the kindness of strangers.

Which reminds me: Buying a computer because you need one is a lot like buying gasoline, now at record prices.

I have read a number of articles written by smart people who wonder why Americans continue to drive at $3.65 a gallon. It's simple, isn't it?

We have to.

We've decided this is how life is to be lived. We are being told to save miles, save gas, buy this, buy that. Mass transit is virtually nonexistent in our neighborhood. We can slow down, I suppose, to save a little, but we're already working more hours now than at any time in history.

Let's face it: We are inextricably tied to our vehicles -- all two, three, four or more of them -- whether it is for work, play or simply moving from point A to point B.

While such a connection is increasingly expensive, there is nothing peculiar about it.

Changing our lifestyle? Now that would be strange.



George Ayoub is senior writer at The Independent.