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| The lone surviving photo from my collection. |
I am trying not to panic.
Panicking is something that I can do with such exquisite
ease that it is almost a shame to try and stop.
To rephrase Sylvia Plath:
Panicking
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.
Three days ago my computer shutdown while I was in the
middle of editing photos. It then refused to turn on again. The first snakes of
panic began to slither through my stomach, but I exterminated them with the
thought of my trusty external hard drive upon which all of my work was safely
stored. Sure, I would lose today's edits, but given my short attention span I
wasn't even sure I could remember what they were in order to grieve their loss.
Yesterday, new computer up and running I foolishly tried to
turn it on. I was lured further down the thorny path to distraction when, full
of hubris, I also attempted to connect my printer, tablet, keyboard, and hard
drive. When I had not realized, was that the AC adapter for my lovely little
Canon Selphy printer was masquerading as the power supply to my hard drive.
The moment I put the power cord into the hard drive I heard
a sickening sizzle. I pulled out the cord immediately, but alas it was too late. My printer uses 24 volts, while my poor,
electrocuted hard drive was only set up to survive at 12 volts. I have since
become a jungle for the animals of anxiety. I cannot yet enumerate what will have been lost should the geek squad gods be unable to work their special brand
of magic.
We shall see.
