Blink. Blink. Blink.

So, I woke up Tuesday morning, did my morning routine (ie, brushed my teeth, checked Fox News for any major headlines, then turned it on SportsCenter while I showered, shaved and so forth). I then sat down and watched three episodes of Grey's Anatomy on dvd (we'll get to that in another column)

Then, right before I left for work, I went to the computer to check my email. And what I saw horrified me.

A black screen with a blinking cursor.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I stared for a second. I rubbed my eyes.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I immediately hit the power button to turn the computer off. This is, of the course, the natural reflex to all things computer-related. Reboot. It turned off, I gave it a few seconds, then turned it back on.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I then, with my right foot, clicked the surge suppressor. One more time, we'll let it sit for more than a few seconds, perhaps it will then get itself right. I began to race through thoughts of all the things I have on the computer than I could lose... remember me spending two months loading cds into my computer? I have the first six seasons of the DFC on cd, but this season? I hadn't saved it on a disc past Week One. What about all my writings and such in the last several months?

With baited breath, I turned on the computer. Finally, it said "Hewlitt Packard" on the opening screen. I smiled. Then it went to black, saying "Press for Set-Up, Press for Resume". Heck, I wouldn't know how to set-up if my life depending on it, so I pressed F2.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

I called Stephanie, left her a message: "Dear... we have to get another computer."

I flipped it off and went to work. On the way, I called my buddy Jonathan Taylor, who is one of my few go-to guys for computer problems. He told me that the issue was the computer wasn't finding the operating system. What? This sounds bad.

There are two things you have to understand when it comes to our computer. First, Stephanie and I are both computer retarded. I mean, we can both put one together, perhaps combining our brain power, we can probably coming do some basic stuff... but when it comes to Giga-ram byte slave drive bit micro-macro-moncro-monchichi anything, we might as well both have drool coming out of our mouth.

Secondly, this is a computer that was pieced together from the Deuce. At The Deuce, we had five computers, one in each of the guy's rooms, and then one in the living room, all being networked. The one in my room had the extra hard drive on it, and when The Deuce shuttered its doors for the final time, Stephanie and I paid Shawn Sharp $100 for it. This might sound like a bad deal, but understand, this was 2004, when this computer was already about 2 years old. So I've got a "C" hard drive, which is the basic "master" drive, and "D" drive, which is the big one holding all of my music, much of my software, files, documents and so on.

To put this into persective, my iPod that I'm listening to right now ("Kiss Them For Me" by Siouxsie & the Banshees is playing at this very moment... okay, it just went to "Incense and Peppermint" by Strawberry Alarm Clock) is 60 gigs. My "C" hard drive is only 40.

Anyway, J-Taylor said he'd take a look at it when he could. This is a busy man, though, so I knew it might be a few days. I went onto work, did my coffee thing, then came home late Tuesday. One more try. Maybe, just maybe, a day of rest would wake up the computer, it would be rarin' to go, saying "Hey Dave! Thanks for the day off! I'm pumped and ready to be used for all your DFC/MySpace/Facebook/Drudge Report/ESPN/blogging duties!!"

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Stephanie and I spent about 30 minutes or more discussing the logistics of a laptop, how we can, or even if we can, afford it, what to do, when to do it, and all the while, I'm thinking, "Well, this just is poopy, isn't it?"

At church last night, I shared with some of the guys my computer woes. Notably Brad McGuffey, who is another computer tech guy. He asked me some questions, then told me, "Dude, your hard drive is fried." Were I four years old, I would have peed myself.

He explained to me the inner workings of the hard drive, told me that I should just get another one, then I can hook it up, turn the "C" drive into a "slave drive", transfer files, and so on.

However, this is what I heard: "LKoD K eoind dkone Deeoiaa[ 9ea7 _(7e[[ D(8yda- ". Making no sense? Exactly.

Brad graciously came over after church last night to inspect. He told me that really, all we needed was another hard drive, and at this day and time, even good ones are cheaper than ever. He and his lovely child-bearing wife Julie are possibly coming over Saturday for dinner, and we'll hopefully get it fixed.

This has made me realize how much I take for granted. No, seriously... I didn't even know who won the St Louis/NYMets game until about twenty minutes ago (the game was last night). I had 26 emails between Tuesday morning and fifteen minutes ago, some of which needed to be answered in a timely fashion (like the one telling me to wear a black shirt last night to church for dinner theater pictures) and I have no clue what's happening in the world. I almost feel lost... I almost feel like... it 1995.

So, here I am, standing at a computer in the Hoover Public Library. My hands hurt because of the angle in which I'm typing, and I'm trying to decide how to do the DFC this week, hoping that all will be working by Saturday night, preparing for getting another computer as late as a week from now. Possibly even further out.

Well, that's where I am. In case I don't blog again for another week or so, that's why. Three words:

Blink. Blink. Blink.