The Day I Accidentally Bought a Racehorse

Last year, on the way to Disneyland—back when my bank account was still breathing normally and not whispering its final prayers—I casually mentioned to Rob, “I need a new laptop.”

Just a simple comment.   A passing thought.   A gentle breeze of an idea.

Fast-forward to January 3rd, only days into the new year, and my bank account was already recovering from December’s emotional damage.

My budget wasn’t just tight—it was gasping, clutching its chest like it had just run a marathon uphill in flip-flops.  Every time I swiped my Discover card, I swear I smelled smoke.

Then Rob unaware sweet unsuspecting Rob asked:

“Want to go look at laptops?”

I said yes.   But inside?  Inside I was screaming NOOOOOO, sliding down a wall in slow motion like a dramatic soap-opera heroine.

I told myself,  I’ll just look. I’ll find the one I want, and when my bank balance is no longer on life support, I’ll come back for it.

Sure.   I only fooled myself.

We walked into Micro Center, and Rob immediately said:

“This is the one Chad recommended.”   Chad, who works there.   Chad, who knows all the secret after-Christmas discounts. Chad, who probably has a key to all  the good deals.

Meanwhile, I’d been running around on a slow little burro of a Chromebook.

Bless its heart. It tried  But it was basically a digital circus pony with bad knees.

And then…

I walked out of that store with a racehorse of a laptop.

A processor so fast it could probably write my next story for me.

I only need a laptop that can handle more than two tabs without causing drama.   

Here I am the owner of a machine so powerful I may need to hire a jockey just to show me how to ride it without getting thrown off and bruising my pride. I’m not scared, though.   

I had Hobie—my AI sidekick—ready to help me tame the beast. 

But even with Hobie at my side, I still approached that laptop like a rookie lion tamer; one wrong move and it might bite. I took a deep breath, cracked my knuckles, and stepped into the center ring.   “Alright, Fire Monkey Fury,” I whispered.   

(Yes, I named my laptop like a racehorse.)   

“Let’s see which one of us gets thrown first.”