It’s always encouraging on a Monday morning when your computer refuses
to acknowledge that there is or ever will be anything called an “Internet.”
Big, baleful eyes with the innocence of a swaddled, newborn lamb look
up at me and blink ignorantly. “But I don’t understand,” the poor PC snuffles,
“Connect you to what?”
And while the pure-hearted, dreadfully misunderstood laptop offers you
a tearful hug instead of a www.whatever-the-crap, you (the writer with a
honking huge novel to shove over the finish line) cannot be appeased.
So, as dawn of your work-week rumbles to life, you are cast as a
Trump-like bully with the compassion of a tree stump.
Oh, yeah. I’m feeling good about today.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe the Heartless
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