A Precious Night at Home.
I had rather looked forward to a quiet night at home. I had things to catch up on, and an evening to one’s self can be so healing. I wanted to read. I wanted to write. I wanted to think. That’s not what the world had in mind.
Work ran long so the evening started late. But I finally opened the laptop and glanced at the email. I’d flown recently and the airline was after me to fill out a survey. I’d already erased a few of their emails so, guilty, I clicked on the link and filled it out. Unless you’re a well-heeled super platinum Lord of the Skies, everything about flying is awful. But what am I going to say? I’m from Minnesota. I can’t be that nasty. I gave them decent marks and continued on. I’d bought a coffee at Starbucks that morning so they, too, wanted a survey. And the car dealer that had changed my oil wanted one as well. Customer Relationship Management, this is called. It makes me want to not be anyone’s customer.
We’re accused of wasting our lives on Facebook or You Tube, but I don’t know how anyone even gets that far. There are too many surveys to fill out.
With the survey questions politely answered, it was on to…oh yeah. Software updates. I’m not sure what exactly all these updates accomplish, but by the time I was finishedand watching the wheels spin and clicking the boxes to agree to the terms there was even less evening left.
The writing mood had evaporated. I decided to catch up on the newspaper. But for some reason the digital subscription algorithm decided it was time to re-enter my password. None of the usual ones seemed to work. I rummaged in a drawer to see if I’d written it down anywhere. That’s when I noticed the dog standing by the back door. He doesn’t whine when he needs to go out. He just stands patiently by the door, looking forlorn. It’s effective. I hooked up the leash and took him out for a stroll around the yard.
It was raining so I took time to dry his paws. The phone rang. I went upstairs to take a look at the caller I.D. It was the same 1–800 number that calls every night at the same time. I should just ditch the land line. It’s only people looking for money that call anymore. When I finally got back to the laptop it indicated the start-up disk was full and the battery was nearly drained. I shut the lid and decided to read a magazine in bed.
Some people say time flies when you’re having fun and on a good day it does. But mostly it seems time gets eaten by the pestering sort of life we live. Novelist James Baldwin, writing in the early days of TV, talked about how America’s high standard of living had resulted in a “bewilderingly empty way of life.” Maybe it’s that in the earlier days it was easier to see a connection between what you did and the result. The ax needed sharpening, but at least you understood how that contributed to the cutting of wood. Now I wonder if I’m the device, and it’s all the gadgets that are in charge.
