Good mourning. That’s not a typo. I’m going through mourning.
Some may already be aware but I’m usually away from home for a couple of days for work. During these days I rarely hear from Mrs OddFather during working hours. So, when I do, I usually fear the worst.
Earlier this week, when in the office, I got the call.
Fears confirmed… My personal Macbook Pro had been destroyed.
Now – Mrs OddFather is a pretty chilled person. She remains calm. She’s able to take a step back. She’s able to look at the bigger picture.
Me? Not so much.
But Mrs OddFather has provided me this feedback so I saw this as an opportunity to show I’m capable of containing myself. I reckon I handled the phonecall quite well. Even if I wasn’t able to hear with all the screaming in my head.
Denial.
Surely it can’t be that bad?
We can fix it. I suggested turning the Macbook off and on again. The keyboard doesn’t work? Fine, we can force restart it. The screen is cracked.
Anger.
How?! How could this be? I was literally there with the OddDaughter a couple of days ago whilst she did her homework. Apparently this was when the incident occurred. How was I not made aware? Still on the phone, I asked what had happened.
The OddDaughter explained she was finishing her homework on the fateful day – which is common for kids to do by logging into a portal these days. I had just returned from picking up the OddSon from nursery – Mrs OddFather was at work. In his excitement seeing the OddDaughter, the OddSon kicked the screen. It smashed.
Why wouldn’t the OddDaughter just tell me there and then? Did she just expect the Macbook Fairy to come along and fix the computer whilst we were asleep? Was she really that nervous about telling me what happened? Is she afraid of me? That thought hit harder than the repair bill.
Wait… WHAT?!
The OddSon kicked the Macbook?! HE KICKED THE MACBOOK?! The Macbook was on the kitchen island which requires bar stools to reach.
How in the frickin’ Bruce Lee was he able to kick the Macbook??!
Something doesn’t add up. I need to sit them all down (including Mrs OddFather) and interrogate them to find out what really happened. How could they do this to me? Do they not understand how to value expensive possessions?
Bargaining.
What if I had kept a better eye on the OddDaughter doing her homework? Or what if I had used my very old Dell as the OddDaughter’s homework laptop before I trashed it?
I guess I had always toyed with the idea of getting a Mac Mini. That would fill the void.
I suggest this to Mrs OddFather, who is receiving a live reaction to my grieving on the phone.
She responds: “We can talk about it some other time, I need to go“. And hangs up.
Silence.
Depression.
I feel mentally frazzled. I decide it’s time for me to leave work and head to where I’m staying for the night. I pack my bag, take out my headphones, and start the journey out of work. I stare out the window of the train – contemplating life without a personal MacBook I rarely use.
I get to the other side and go to remove my headphones. Only to discover I didn’t actually end up putting the music on to begin with and just sat there in silence.
At least my ears were warm.
Acceptance.
Ok. I’m overreacting. I never used that laptop anyway. Still, it was nice to have as an option if I needed it for personal work. Especially if my iPad Pro didn’t quite cut it for whatever reason.
Mrs OddFather now suggests we can just use my iPad Pro for the OddDaughter’s homework going forward.
Frick. That.
I’ve learnt my lesson: keep my toys equipment away from the kids.
…And cancel any karate lessons.
