As near as I can tell, that title has a good chance of being a Summer replacement sitcom.
Of course, I am not totally without access to a computer, or I wouldn’t be tapping this out now. I keep up with my e-mail and Twitter via my Droid phone, use my wife’s netbook for more important things, like catching up on my day’s webcomics. It has been pointed out that I can reclaim the laptop I refurbished and gave to my son, but I’m not quite to that point yet. Even if Dave does shout, “Ground him! You know he’s done something wrong! Ground him!”
I found myself faced with the prospect of, you know, actually watching TV last night, as my wife was off performing in her show and my son was feverishly playing online games, probably certain that I would appear in his doorway at any moment to reclaim my property.
Well, I didn’t watch TV, nyah nyah, except for a few minutes of CSI while I was folding laundry (still amazed that criminalists engage in raids on criminal strongholds. Truly they are the backbone of law enforcement, at least in Las Vegas). I’m still going through the many extras on that Starcrash DVD – though I’ve no idea how I’m going to format and post a review – finished up the last of the volumes of Path of the Assassin I have in my possession. Even started reading that copy of Marvel Essential Wolverine I picked up long ago. I wasn’t expecting to like it that much, but… dammit, Marvel, it’s not fair to ring in Chris Claremont and John Buscema on me.
The most surprising thing – and this has happened every time I find myself in these straits – is the odd feeling of isolation. It’s not unlike those times I visited my sister-in-law, way out in the country where cell phones don’t function and the Internet was still science-fiction. That’s silly, of course; nothing has really changed except for my constant connection to a digital flow. I’m not automatically checking Tumblr or Twitter for updates every few minutes. I’m pretty much dependent on myself for my entertainment.
You’d think there’d be some lesson in self-sufficiency here, or some hook for the feel-good movie of the year. But there’s not; I’ve lost one of my tools, and I’m finding out all over again just how much I used that tool.
In other news: Two of my four days in sub hell have passed. I have murdered no children yet. Operative word being yet.