a fox and an apple.

I saw a fox scurrying across I-95 late tonight, while driving home.

I was driving home; the fox was scurrying, as I said.

This reminds me of a book I read once called The Silver Hand. The hero in the story saw an aurochs walking around in broad daylight in a suburban part of London. I think that an aurochs is a mythical creature, but even if they aren’t, they don’t walk around suburbia. Not even British suburbia. This was the beginning of some magical doings–the sighting of that aurochs.

Perhaps the fox on 95 is like that for me.

And also: when my poor computer was on life support and I didn’t know if my documents would live to see another day, a man rolled up next to me at the genius bar in the apple store. I say rolled because he had with him a dolly. And on this dolly he stores all of his electrical sundries that attach in some way to his varying contraptions that boast the Mac icon of an apple.

While I was clutching my pearls, hoping that something could be saved from my so-called burning house, he whipped out a silk cloth from his fanny pack. “You really should wipe down your screen,” he said, while handing me the travel sized spray bottle he had just procured from the other side of his fanny pack.

So I thanked him and wiped it down. But not very well, I guess, cause as I handed it back to him he said, “That did exactly one hundred percent of nothing for your screen.” I pointed at his now dirty silk cloth and told him that it must have done something, at least.

Then the man told the genius who was busily working on my computer that he really should wipe down the screen. The genius assured him he would without looking up.

I wonder if this man would tell a fireman that he should wash the windows of a burning house.

Then the man started telling me everything about his dock and his apps and where he keeps them and why. I nodded quite a lot while mentally still clutching my pearls, worrying about my pictures and music and many writings. But just telling me wasn’t enough, I guess, cause he reached into his dolly and pulled out a huge color-coordinated book.

“I get a new one of these printed out each month from kinkos,” he told me. “it’s a full schematics of all my apps and exactly where they go, should my computer get wiped clean for some reason.”

I was sufficiently impressed.

And aren’t humans just the most fascinating creatures?

And I eventually stopped clutching my pearls because I came home with my docs and music and pictures all stored in a tidy backup disk. At least, I think that’s what it’s called.

But I have no computer for a week while it gets a new hard drive. This is interesting and okay and yes, I will be just fine.