80 Days of Summer for Bob - Days #63 to #66

It happened again this year. I was not prepared for it! The past few days have been hell!

As I write this blog entry Sunday morning, I now fully understand, more accurately appreciate, the full extent of the disease that once again affected me over these past few days. What I can't believe is that I never put two and two together before this year. It all started innocently enough, as it always does now that I reflect back on the past several years.

I was in Newmarket Wednesday with time to spare before going to the movie when I decided to browse in one of those big box electronic stores. That was it, just a quick walk through. A simple enough action. I thought nothing more of it and 20 minutes later left to watch the movie. I failed to recognize the early warning signs.

It started in earnest Thursday morning when I awoke with an incredible urge to buy something - something electronic - something for myself. Something to make me feel better. Off I went and within an hour I was lugging a 22 inch widescreen monitor up the stairs to my apartment. I was happy. I was in trouble. I hadn't yet recognised the disease that was upon me.

I installed the monitor - which amounted to nothing more than plugging it in (because I own a Mac), and I was off to play Warcraft in a new 22 wide screen world. I didn't care that the old monitor and its cables hung limply from my desk where they had fallen when I disconnected it. I was happy - or so I thought.

When I finally crawled into bed, in the back of my mine, in some deep recess that only gets accessed once a year, the disease crawled forth and whispered - it is time to prepare the nest, Bob. It was only a whisper and I ignored it - I was after all still in a different world. The World of Warcraft. If only I had listened more closely. If only I wasn't so tired that night.

On Friday I awoke with the disease in full flight. The urge to re-arrange the furniture in my apartment was unbearable. My new Monitor called to me, begged me to rearrange my computer desk. It wanted the old monitor gone. It wanted to have its own pedestal.

I was beginning to recognize the signs. This had happened before - always in late August. The desire to rebuild the nest. Not simply to move a few pieces of furniture about but a massive undertaking involving changing the entire layout of my apartment. This would involve cleaning, throwing out furniture that didn't fit the new regime. Buying new items to replace those thrown out. The need to rebuild from the ground up. I had begun to recognize the disease but I was unable to stop it.



In previous years I have always rearranged my apartment in late August. Over the years I have purchased new computers, chairs (remember Janelle), beds, and even last year - a new car! Always in August! The disease must be genetic in nature. Perhaps a cancerous strand of mutated DNA that comes to the forefront once a year to cause harm to those men who do not have a female in their life. God's cruel trick on those of us who are happy for 11 months of the year.

In short I thought I could beat the disease by joining the Cartel Friday night but alas when I returned to my apartment I began to rearrange the furniture. The quiet calling of that morning had become a full out scream in my head by the time I had returned. The computer desk had to be moved. As did the bed, the bookcase, the couch, the television, everything!

As I went to bed Friday I thought the worst was over. Sure I had to get up early Saturday and finish the job of cleaning and rearranging minor items but the worst was over. The big pieces of furniture were in their proper place. I thought I finally understood the disease and had gotten through the worst of it. I was wrong.

Saturday I awoke in a slight stupor - perhaps alcohol was involved or perhaps it was the beginning of the full out assault of the disease on my senses. I awoke, had coffee while checking my email on my new MONITOR and to my horror I came to the conclusion that I needed to upgrade my computer. My new MONITOR called out to me - demanded that I get a new computer worthy of the new look apartment - worthy of ITSELF!

What follows next is hard for me to write. I am heartbroken. I am riddled with guilt. My actions on that day went against everything I believe in, everything I hold true. I am embarrassed, no - ashamed, that my moral fibre was tested that day and I failed. I have tears in my eyes as I write this.

By noon on Saturday I was trudging up my apartment building stairs with a new computer in my hands. My shoulders were stooped in shame as I entered my apartment and began to unpack my new HP PC complete with Windows Vista.

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As I tell this tale Sunday morning I know I have lived through the disease for this year. The new HP computer is not yet fully up and running. It took 3 hours yesterday to try and get the new MONITOR working and after having downloaded countless drivers ( a new experience for a Mac user) the PC fails to recognize the wide screen format of the new MONITOR. It took another 6 hours to get Warcraft installed (it was 30 minutes with the Mac). Several hours later and several driver downloads later, I was finally able to get sound through speakers attached to the new PC.

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Though I am ashamed, I come out of this experience with a new found understanding of the disease and of the world. First, I know that next year I am going to plan to be away for the latter part of August. I also have a better appreciation for the frustrations of PC users though I fail to understand why anyone with half a brain would choose to use a PC as opposed to a Mac. Yes I am one of those mindless idiots who have a PC but as I write this blog I am using, and will always use, my Mac. The voices emanating from my new MONITOR have taken on a form of contentment as it recognises that it is more complete with the Mac than with the PC.


Perhaps I shall keep the PC, perhaps not. If I do, it shall be used exclusively for Warcraft. I must admit Warcraft plays better on the PC.