You come home one night. It’s late. You are unloading all the things you have packed away in this bag or that bag or whatever bag. It’s been a long day into a night that got the “beat me bloody” memo. You just want to sleep. You come back and you toss your bags across the room onto the floor. All of your bags.
All of them. Oh no.
No no no. You go to your backpack trying to convince yourself this isn’t real, but you know it’s real because you don’t want it to be. You unzip your bag and pull out your battered laptop. You open your mouth to speak, but the words aren’t there. After all, what is there to say? I didn’t mean it? It wasn’t my fault, was it? Try to explain that you’re just tired and stressed and maybe a little drunk? I’m sorry.
You press the power button, and it lets out a cry. There’s definitely something in the fan making a terrible racket, and there’s a hairline fracture along the left side of the screen, a physical representation of five seconds of poor decision making. Plain negligence, really. You took an eye of your own actions for just a moment and it cost an arm and a leg.
Should you bring it to the store? Anytime something happens to your electronics people say you need to see a professional. That there’s a person who will just magically fix things, no residual issues. A low flat rate to make everything new and shiny again. It even comes with your favorite candy and world peace. It’s a scam, and, even if it wasn’t, you don’t need more people knowing your shame. No, this is just life now.
Your head is filled with questions and regret and how this isn’t your fault because what else were you supposed to do? You’re not perfect and, honestly, life put you in this position in the first place. You were tied up. Of course you hit the ball. The only thing that is for certain is it’s late and you want to sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.