I was Hijacked!

I was hijacked yesterday. Not my person, not my car, but my computer. It was someone I knew. That's why it hurt so much. The hijacker was John. John has his own computer. Several of them in fact. One sits directly behind mine. It even has its own computer desk and chair. He has a laptop that he can use from work. And another laptop he can use from the fire department. Hey, he can even go over the hill to the fire department and find a couple more, but he insists on using mine. Mine is nothing special. It was a $400 Walmart deal, but it is free of computer games and all the other bogger-down stuff that John's computer has on it. And it is several years newer. Mine also has an ergonomic keyboard that he hates, but he persists in trying to take it over anyway. This is a problem to me because the first thing I do after my kids are out of the house (after I read my Bible) is to check my email. When I get out of the shower, I check it again. So it goes every hour or so that I'm home, just in case somebody sends me a message of utmost importance that will change the direction of my world. That doesn't count the websites and blogs I monitor, the daily TV schedule I check online so I can see which reality show I'll be watching and the myriad of other things I get the whim to research. In addition, mine is loaded with the software needed for my medical transcription, so it is the only computer that I can work on. And still he sneaks into the seat before I can.

Yesterday he declared "tax day". This was the day he designated that he would have our taxes completed and filed online by sundown. The problem was that I accompanied him on a bunch of errands he had to do, we ate breakfast out together and I missed what would have been my only chance of the day to get a fix of world-wide-webbiness. Once we got home, John sat at my computer desk and reached over to cover his own keyboard and desk with all the necessary paperwork. I said I needed to check email. He said he was keeping us out of jail by filing our taxes on time. I said I needed to work. He said I could--after he was done. That ended up being way after sundown, way after I'd already gotten engrossed in American Idol and then the Amazing Race. By the time he finished, I had lost my inspiration at all the bloggy wit that I had intended to post. So here I am, losing my record of posting every single day, thrilling my readers with the excitement of a household filled with a stay-at-home-mom-wannabe reality TV star, a 9-year-old genius, an 8-year-old aspiring singer/actress/sports star of some kind/veterinarian and my third kid, the 41-year-old.

Walmart really needs to run a smiley-face special so I can get his favorite computer a twin sister.