Ken will be getting a laptop this week. He’s wanted one for a while, and with taxes filed we’ve a bit of extra cash at the moment. I’m faced with an uncomfortable position. I recognize that I ought to replace my beloved Precious (my EEE netbook). It’s 3 years old, now, and has been slowing down and, recently, acting…. oddly, at times. I know the signs. I’ve found a small laptop that I’m happy with – it’ll be more powerful and faster, which is nice. It’ll be the same colour (which is pure coincidence, but nice since I didn’t want black). It’ll be heavier (which I’m not crazy about) and bigger (nice, though not necessary).
Yet… I resist. Maybe I’m expecting something more amazing. Not just a replacement, but something that will bring to my life as much as Precious has. Something I’ll love as much as I did this (and still do). I love this little thing! I love how small and lightweight it is. I love how long the battery lasts (even after 3 years) and how fast it recharges. I love the shiny surface (smudge marks aside) and how slick it feels underhand. I love the curved lines. I love how the keyboard feels under my fingers (chic-let style).
The new one, an Acer Aspire, will have pointed corners and a non-centered touchpad (yes I’m nitpicking). It’s almost 2lbs heavier, which means I won’t be able to carry it around, willy nilly, one-handed the way I do my netbook. I’m going to have to relearn all the little special function keys AND IT MIGHT NOT FIT IN MY SUPER CUTE LAPTOP TRAVEL BAG!!
I know I’m being stupid about it. I know this netbook won’t last forever. I know I’m emotionally attached to an object. But it’s an object that changed my whole life. It gave me freedom from a desktop when the boys were tiny enough that a desktop was impossible. That gave me the freedom to get my head out of the house, even when the rest of me was stuck. It’s cute and easy and convenient. I’m highly tempted to just wait until it dies, but I’m sure that’ll be at the worst possible time when I’ve not remembered to back up my data and we won’t have the money to put towards a new one like we do now.
I’m giving myself a few hours to think about it. There’s a sale, so Ken wants to take advantage of that. There’s all kinds of good, logical reasons. But I’ve a big, complicated heart, where reason does not dwell.