A Cool Story

In the earlier phases of this blog, I got it in my head that this would be a techie blog. Never mind that I keep on mistaking a CPU for a UPS and that the only C+ I know is the one I proudly got in Biology some years back  (it was a great achievement considering I got my only 0% ever in biology – for drawing a rabbit with two circles , two v’s for ears and a tail, and naming its body parts ‘head’ , ‘thorax ‘ and ‘abdomen’ ).  A year and a few mind-jarringly terrible posts later, I am still clinging to the hope that one day I will be struck by lightning – like John Travolta in that movie – and become an amazingly brilliant blogger, writing with ease on any given technical topic – in about 20 different languages. Until that time, though, I will once in a while attempt to bore you to death with a few posts like this one.

I mentioned a while back that I finally got my first laptop – except it wasn’t actually a laptop :- more like a slightly bigger calculator with word processing capabilities. My baby was promptly named PT (or Petey, if you like), which comes from Peter Tosh since my baby is a Toshiba. Yeah, I know – veerrry original . It was, of course, love at first sight, and notwithstanding the fact that PT has crap for speakers and no CD drive, we get along very well . ( I think it has something to do with the fact that he doesn’t have much of a say on where he lives.)

Anyway, PT has been in Laptop Hospital for almost a week now. My techie friends probably have a name for what ails him, but to put it in terms I can understand, he has had problems with high temperatures for a while now, and lately he has been experiencing  seizures and going into short comas every once in a while. Right now I am doing the distraught mum routine to the extreme.  Not only do I go see him in hospital every day, but I also call the doctor at least 10 times a day asking for updates. He has threatened to change his number and move to Armenia if I don’t stop bugging him..

This heating up business has been the cause of a lot of misery for me. I was told that that was the one thing I had to guard against at all costs, so when I noticed it happen, I started taking measures to rectify the situation.

My first brain wave was to cool it down like all mothers do their babies – by giving it a sponge bath. It was only after I had done that about 4 or 5 times that I remembered that water and electricity are not really compatible. So to protect us both from early deaths, I had to discontinue this treatment. ( side question – why is it that when I Google sponge bath I get pictures of nurses in really short skirts?)

My second idea was another old fashioned one: fan  it down manually – the way one does when one wants to light a jiko.

My state-of-the-art hand-held fans (stolen from my Aunt's BBQ)

For a while there were paper plates in just about every room in my house, ready for action as and when necessary. After a while, though, I started noticing that my right arm was getting bigger than Congestina’s while my left one remained as flabby as ever. I realized then that I needed to find another solution.  (There was also the fact that I had run out of paper plates )

Enter my brothers, who between the two of them have enough skills in woodwork, electrical stuff, and metal work to be a danger to society, and not quite enough to make a living off of. I begged bribed and bullied till they made me an external fan that looked like… well , let me just show you .

The magaribina fan - not worth a trademark

My begging etc ,however, was not enough to get me some varnish or paint. I ended up with something that resembles a very very ugly kiti moto ( you know- the one you sit on when you are at your granny’s kitchen eating roast maize ) . Then too, its appearance seems to keep people guessing as to its actual use. I strongly suspect that a sniffer dog was deployed to my hotel room recently, after housekeeping staff found the fan lying on my bed.

Well, one of my relatives finally came to the conclusion that if I continued lugging this thing around ( and lugging is the operative word- that this is heavy ) there were chances that HE would end up on a no-flying list someday. In self defence, he opted to buy me a cooling pad from somewhere in this decade. Of course, being the cheapskate that he is,she did not get me this one but opted for its poorer cousin.

I am not complaining,  however, because I now look like a very high tech mama with my new cooling fan.  Sadly, though , I have not yet been able to do my peacock impression with it, since PT is in hospital , but  once he is discharged,  watch out Kisumu !

( I never quite know how to end posts, so today I will take the easy way out )

THE END .

Update: I just got back from seeing PT and the prognosis is not good. Doc wants to do extensive tests and even more expensive organ transplants. I have asked him to keep him alive till I can find out all the secrets he keeps then pull the plug . Goodbye PT  *sniff* we shall surely miss you for you were.. hello beautiful! And what’s YOUR name ??

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