Bernie tells me that my laptop's days are numbered.

I don't want to believe that, because I've really liked this machine, and the keyboard feels so very familiar, and it has all my favorite programs on it to my satisfaction. However, it has begun running with a hot spot in the upper left corner, the power cord connection is wobbly, the DVD reader doesn't read any more, and there is the new problem with the screen going dead for no particular reason.

"It's not that old!" I sputtered at my husband, who then pointed out that this machine gets powered up in the morning even before I totter from bed to bathroom, and though I let it rest periodically during the day, it's also only turned off in the late evening when I've decided I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Is it possible that I've used my machine up?

We started with a noisy e-Machine, on which I wrote my first emails and my first novel; then I had my sweet little Micron that Tedi and JT sent me so that I could have my very own computer. After that came the first laptop, and then a desktop that could handle all the graphics I was doing in Photoshop; and then this laptop, and the absolute lemon desktop that can barely count its own toes and which I despise so much it will probably never work correctly.

So many ghosts of computers past, and present, and what will fill the future? I looked at laptops in Best Buy today, and hated every single one of them.

Nevertheless, I am reluctant to entrust any more writing to this laptop ...