When the Cat's Away . . .
Meg has abandoned you all for the weekend, but don't despair - there's no reason we can't have a little fun here without her.
So, who the hell am I and how did I sneak past the gatekeepers of the blog? The details aren't important; all that matters is that I'm a good friend - and entitled to take certain liberties.
Even the avid readers among you likely don't know many details of Meg's life - I don't mean the deep, dark secrets that she would, no doubt, gladly share with you Imaginary Folk anyways - but the subtleties of her day-to-day existence that she might not bother to mention. For example:
- Her home computer runs Windows 98, which is only worth mentioning because she can't install iTunes. The poor girl goes door-to-door begging for new music like a sugar-starved kid on Halloween night,
- She refuses to use a microwave, even though (to the best of my knowledge) there's no sound environmental reason to avoid them, and, most relevant at the moment,
- She doesn't own a cell phone. Or Blackberry. Or two-way pager. Relevant, I say, because my flight to Philly is running late and I have no easy way of letting her know that she should go to dinner without me.
I'm sure I'm not alone here - we've all got plenty of technology laggards in our lives. [My parents, for example, still have trouble with the 3 TV remotes, but I forced a cell phone on them and they've been grateful ever since.]
My question for you, good folks: do I simply tolerate this backward-ness with her? Or is it my duty, as a friend, to leave her stranded at PHL, at the mercy of the Hare Krishnas, until she realizes the error in her ways?
[Update - I'm still in Atlanta; Meg just called me from a payphone. She got lucky this time: I gave her everything - the restaurant location, her friend's phone numbers, my expected arrival time - and not one moment of preaching from me . . . I'm such a softie . . .]