My new computer is sitting in a saved cart on the Dell website, waiting for me to complete the order. Fortuitous upgrade synchronicity means that the configuration I want is currently $400 cheaper than usual, including tax and delivery. But I feel guilty about actually ordering it.
It isn't about money. The total cost is less than 2 weeks' gross income - it's an amount I could easily hand over to a loved one in crisis without worrying about whether or not I'd be paid back. I don't need to make any economies or watch my spending after making this purchase it won't be out of necessity, it will be because my chequing account balance is lower than I'm accustomed to (but still well above the balance of anyone to whom I'd divulge my chequing account balance).
No, I feel guilty about abandoning my old computer, tossing it aside like an old shoe. It may sound silly to be so attached to a household item, a commodity, but this computer (which, I just realized, I never even bothered to name!) has been there with me my entire adult life, and was the greatest symbol of my transition into adulthood until I got that beautiful letter from my current employer formally offering me a full-time permanent position.
This computer allowed me to game, chat and participate in web communities well into the night and away from the prying eyes of meddling grownups. I fell in love with mi cielito through its keyboard and screen. It bore withness to years of gloriously banal conversations with my truest friends. It served me loyally as I completed all the coursework necessary to obtain my undergrad degree. It saw me through many the rough night with games and internet, and would joyously cry "User is online!" to announce the arrive of someone who could make my rough nights easier. It tolerantly allowed me to install all manner of games produced in the last 20 years and in the 21st century, commercial software of various degrees of legitimacy, and propriety software whose existence the powers that be at Microsoft and Dell have never fathomed - all the while allowing me to freely alt-tab in between them so I could blog, as I'm doing now, thoughts that occurred to me while playing a game that I was too young to play when it was first released. This computer was instrumental to my first instant messages, my first hardware upgrades, my first software and peripheral installations, my first MP3s, my first love, my first move out of my parents' home, my first network troubleshooting, my first network security, my first pornography, my first FTP, my first translation, my first digital photos, my first hacking, my first email attachment, my first distributed computing, my first Sims, my first technical writing, my first Russian, my first Polish, my first photo manipulation, my first terminological research, my first apartment, my first internship, my first Harry Potter, my first fandom participation, my first RRSPs, my first online purchases, every university registration except my first, and even, as soon as I work up the courage to complete the transaction, my first purchase of a computer all by myself. It has participated hugely, perhaps moreso than anything or anyone other than mi cielito, in my becoming the person I am today. And I don't feel good about just abandoning it because it's old when it's still perfectly functional.
I know that by all standards, except those of the strictest frugality geeks or the poorer citizens of this planet, it is ridiculous for a person of my station in life to be using a computer that was built in the 20th century. I know that no one would begrudge me this worthwhile investment given my financial resources and given the major role that a computer plays in my social, recreational and professional life, especially since empirical evidence suggests that computers under my care last over five years, with only minor problems that are promptly and effectively dealt with under warranty. But I just don't feel good about abandoning the old one after it's been so good to me...
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