It's been over two weeks, and I'm still without my computer. I called a couple of days ago and they said they were "waiting for a part." What part, I don't know. Neither did the kid on the phone. He was just reading some notes that the actual repair guy had written on my work order. It truly filled me with confidence.
The worst part about it is that I haven't been able to do any writing without it. I'm too adapted to using the computer to write. I never was very big on writing long-hand (if you could see my handwriting, you'd understand). I've always typed faster than I could legibly write.
In the days before the home computer, I used to write on a Smith-Corona "smart" typewriter. It was basically not much more than an electric typewriter, but it had a small amount of built-in memory. If my memory serves, it could store up to six documents with a total of about 25 pages of text. You couldn't write a novel with it, but it was enough to get me through my undergrad paper writing years and write quite a few short stories.
The screen was only one line, right above the keyboard and below the open area where the keys would come up to strike the paper. I think it displayed either 16 or maybe 20 characters, which was barely enough for one short phrase. Editing was a bitch. But at least you could edit, which made this machine far superior to the typewriters I'd had before it.
When I started graduate school, and 25 pages went from being the maximum length of a paper to the minimum length, I finally joined the computer age. Now I'm lost without the darn thing.
Of course, what brings all this up, is that just because I don't have my computer doesn't mean that my brain has stopped coming up with ideas. In particular, I've been thinking a lot about a certain book project I'd put aside a while back, and now I think I know how to attack it. I just hope I get the computer back before the inspiration fades, or, dare I say it, I have to resort to pen and paper...