I didn’t announce my absence because I didn’t know I was going anywhere. My laptop just didn’t wake up one morning. No warning. No goodbye. No dramatic final error message. It simply chose death.
I tried everything. Restarted it. Charged it. Talked to it like a sick pet. Googled symptoms. Asked GPT like it was a grief counselor.
GPT told me my laptop died of natural causes.
Natural causes.
For a machine.
Apparently this is a known issue, which is offensive information to learn after the funeral. I felt like the whole world collapsed. Not in a dramatic movie way, but in the quiet way where you realize your entire brain lives inside a rectangle that has decided it no longer respects you.
That laptop was my best friend. My therapist. My filing cabinet. My bad idea storage unit. My password holder. My witness.
So naturally, everyone asked, “Why don’t you just get another Windows laptop?”
Because I felt like GPT and Copilot pulled me aside and said, Listen. You can either get the dependable Apple, or when the next Windows laptop dies in three years, you are absolutely on your own, kid.
Even my kids sided with Apple. Of course they did. They said things like, “It just works, Mom,” which is extremely bold coming from people who still call me to ask where their documents went.
So now I have a Mac.