My iPad is dying a long, slow death. I call it the iPad no number, as it is first generation. This is a little painful for me, because the iPad is a thing of beauty. Cue singing angels here. Mary Tyler Dad gifted it to me for Mother’s Day, 2010 — my first Mother’s Day without Donna. Well, you can imagine that was not an easy day for me. I had spent each Mother’s Day since 2007 worrying what life would be like without Donna, and in 2010 I was finding that out. Apparently, life without Donna has better tech. Sigh.
It was wrapped nicely and I opened it up and just kind of stared at it. I thought it extravagant and intimidating and unnecessary. Worst. Wife. Ever. I didn’t really touch it for a few weeks and it confused me. What was the point, I wondered. I had been one of those to make fun of the name at its release, with the almost too easy reference to sanitary napkins. Steve Jobs walked straight into that one.
Well, some time passed and I started using it here and there. Words like “apps” and “cushioned carrying case” entered my vocabulary without irony or sarcasm. Apps, in fact, morphed over night from something I put in my mouth to something I used to learn more about what I wanted to put in my mouth.
This iPad, I really should have named the sucker given how much quality time I spend with it, has kept me company on many a dark day. When I discovered streaming, all freaking bets were off. Mary Tyler Dad became what we fondly refer to as an “iPad widow.” More than once I have been admonished not to use his back as an iPad stand while I watch the 92nd season of SVU. Sheesh. Some husbands are so sensitive.
And I say that I stopped reading as much as I used to when Donna died, but sometimes I wonder. It’s hard to read when Facebook and links and pin boards are calling my name. I’ve tried electronic books, but I think I have developed late onset ADHD because of the damn thing. Seriously. That should be a thing if it isn’t already.
Problems were first noted months ago. It would crash suddenly and bring me back to the home screen. Then that started happening more and more. At first, it was just on Facebook, and the streaming remained intact. Sadly, it is now on everything that I use it for. Facebook won’t even let me click on a link or shift pages without crashing. What’s the point of the damn thing if it keeps crashing?
I am hoping Santa brings me a new one. A girl can dream, right? If so, Mary Tyler Son will be granted full custody, something he has been petitioning for for months. I joke that he actually has custody and grants me visitation rights. Pfffft. Even he gets annoyed with it now, too.
I will miss you, iPad no number. You have been very, very good to me. You’ve made me laugh and cry and imagine very real fits of violence, wherein I throw your slim and sexy frame across the bedroom, Frisbee style, with each successive crash. Yes, I will miss you, despite your betrayals. I just have one question before we part, “Why you got to do me like that?”
Is it odd to create a sick bed for your most treasured piece of tech? You do that in your house, too, right?
If you liked this post, read my ode to Steve Jobs, The Apple of My Eye, written the night of his death. And as always, hang with me on the Facebook.
Mary Tyler Mom 