I admit it.
I curled up into a fetal ball and moaned as I lay in the center of my apartment after seeing the screen telling me there was a major problem with my operating system.
It took me at least a couple of days, and the help of a resilient friend, to drive around LA's Koreatown until we located a computer repair shop. The fragile CPU sat in my arms, like a forlorn babe awaiting redemption.
In a non-descript office building, brimming with signs in Hanjul, I found the temple of resurrection.
Surprisingly, or not for my hood, it was run by a Salvadoran who took pity on me, but still told me it would be over the weekend before he could diagnose the problem.
Early Monday morning the phone rang, and the problem was resolved almost effortlessly.
Nonetheless, for the first time in a long while I spent five long days without internet access, other what I was able to glom off sympathetic friends.
I realize: in the urban jungle in which I live, there are certain necessities of life, which include a phone, a car, and a computer. They have become the technological holy triad of the twenty-first century.
Thank you, Pachamama, for making sure everything worked out again...