I was, as usual, stationed at starbucks feeling rather pleased with myself for getting my entire article done in one sitting; it doesn't happen very often. This might actually be a first.
My laptop (netbook, technically) gave all it could for four hours before informing me that it was about to breathe its last breath. Just in time, I thought, and I mentally signed off and emailed away.
I was so pleased, in fact, that I decided to indulge in a blackcurrant frappe. Deliberating between reading and working on a story idea I've been toying with, I remembered I'd intentionally left the book I'm reading at home to ensure that all my attention would go to the article. Mild panic starts to creep in.
I was about to tweet about this (omg just got a brand new drink, just realised no book,laptop's dead. *dies*) when I discovered my phone battery was dead. Completely dead. Right about now, all space around me seems to have disappeared and my heart is beating twice as fast as it should. A lone droplet of sweat makes its solitary way across my brow, personifying my steadily increasing level of unease.
Stay calm, I told myself, I wanted to work on said story anyway. But alas, I'd forgotten my pen. I may as well have forgotten my head.
I remained there, staring at my $7 drink, hating it and wishing all kinds of trials and tribulations upon it. How dare he (surely it was a he) sit there all pretty and purple when I had nothing to occupy myself with while enjoying it? The manipulative bastard.
It was a daunting task but I pulled through. It wasn't so bad after awhile. Being back in a supportive environment of a charged phone, internet access, hifi-set, pen & paper and my book has contributed to my recovery.
I suppose it was the many things I wanted/needed to do that I couldn't, rather than having nothing to do, that caused this state of great distress.
What can I do, Generation Y was brought up and conditioned to have the constant need to be doing at least 5 things at any one time.
Me:
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