Today I clutched my backpack with my laptop to my chest and clumsily tried to cover us both with my sad tan umbrella, two broken prongs flopping in the wind. I was reminded of The Yellow Umbrella. My shoes were dark with the wet and my corduroys clung to my skin near my ankles. The back of my sweater was wet enough that when I retrieved it from locker after several hours of studies a damp odor greeted me. Some people have big umbrellas that cover their body and their precious laptop bags, others walk to class in sweatshirts, darkened from the rain. It seems that people are either prepared or don’t care. I found myself out of place, wanting to be dry, but without the proper equipment. I want a big rain poncho that will cover my backpack and myself and an umbrella that somehow protects me down to my feet. It’s not the getting wet that bothers me so much as the wetness staying with me throughout the way as a dampness to my very bones. Maybe I should keep a change of clothes and shoes at the law school. I already feel like Mr. Rogers as I change from my outdoor sweater to my indoor sweater each day.
Protection of my precious laptops worries me too. What if the rain becomes torrential and the wetness drips into my electronic note keeper? My reliance on my electronic friend should motivate me to back it up more often than I do. Last week, a fellow law student, through an unusual sequence of events had her laptop destroyed in the first few minutes of torts class. The person seated next to the law student had piping hot coffee that was inadvertently pushed upon her laptop by a third person rushing by to get to his seat. She rushed from the room, taking her laptop immediately to some sort of computer emergency repair place. They reported that it would cost less to get a new laptop then to try and repair the latte loving laptop. Thankfully, she, smarter than me, had just recently backed up all her files. Now I warily eye anybody that has an open drink near my laptop. I inch my computer away, and have been working on the etiquette of asking them to place their drink on the floor, where it will pose no risk.
5 comments:
i'm working at the runcible spoon and your post just made me move my tea cup across the table, away from laptop.
your rain story remind sme of a time i ran into a little shop to buy a cheap umbrella in san francisco. i walked out into the downpour, unsnapped the umbrella, lifted it over my shoulder and pushed the button to open it up. The whole top of the umbrella went shooting off down the street, leaving me with just a handle in my hand. I could not stop laughing. Get that poncho and stay dry.
that is exactly why you should use old fashioned note pads. well, not old fashioned like slate tablets. regular paper is just fine.
LH: I can completely picture that umbrella. It turns out tea is not terrible - check on what happened.
Nino noir - so the competition creeps in. . . trying to convince me not to use my computer. . . I'm savvy to your strategy. :)
Please back up once in a while--even those of us who don't know you personally and follow your blog don't want you to lose a whole semester of law school. If nothing else, e-mail your notes to yourself once a day so that they live on your e-mail server (until your mailbox exceeds its limit, but if you get a hotmail account, that won't happen for a long, long time).
i didn't think stating the obvious was competitive. but whatever. my legal pads could withstand sweet tea any day.
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