The Past 18 Minutes

Yesterday, when I plugged in my computer to the power strip sitting beside my bed, an error screen materialized after I turned on my laptop. It stated that somehow the power source was messing up or something, and wondered if I wanted to continue on down this seemingly threatening path.

Because I had never received such a message before, I was curious to see if I could discover the cause. So I checked to make sure the power strip was plugged into the wall completely, which it was. Then I checked to make sure the thingy that connects the laptop to the power strip was plugged in completely to the power strip, which it was. Finally, I checked to make sure the thingy that connects the laptop to the power strip was plugged in completely to the laptop which is was…n’t.

Actually, it was. However, the black covering had been bent to such extremes that it had ripped, revealing the wires underneath. Not the greatest of signs. Because of its potentially hazardous state, I resorted to using my computer’s battery instead, which is something I rarely do. Close to never. I only use my battery when I need to bring my computer elsewhere besides my all-too-comfortable bed, where it is about 99.7% of the time. (I understand that keeping a laptop in one place continuously defeats the purpose of even having a laptop, but that is an argument for later date.)

Using the battery causes the screen of my computer to become perpetually dim, which is disappointing in comparison to the brightly-colored and stimulating graphics that typically accompany the usage of my laptop. Instead of a pure, mind-boggling white, the background of this Microsoft Word document has a twinge of sickly grey, which looks downright unhealthy.

I do not use to battery frequently for that reason, along with the fact that using a battery instead of a constant power source can be utterly unnerving. I find my eyes constantly darting to the bottom right corner of the screen, checking to see just how much time I have left. The battery icon empties spitefully, its life shrinking down to nothingness, and it mocks me so cruelly: Only thirty-seven more minutes, Julia. Thirty-seven minutes until the end.

This was my experience today, when I opened my computer and turned it on to realize that I had but thirty-seven minutes to spit out this article. Now the malicious battery reads that I have twenty-four minutes until oblivion. Twenty-three now. Twenty-two.

So, I guess I will have to come to terms with the fact that my computer will look unwell and that this battery-anxiety will plague me until my mother can locate for me a new power-cord. (Twenty-one.) That, or I can risk electrocution by using my power-cord, which I am now (Twenty.) considering.

Nineteen.