laptop. Yes, that's right. I just enjoyed a Rockwell-esque Thanksgiving and now, as I sit in front of the fireplace of my parents' circa 1900 farmhouse, terriers at my feet, I am the quintessential image of winter-time domesticity. The quintessential bug-in-a-rug, except for the small detail that in my lap is neither a book nor a cup of cocoa. No, in my lap is a computer.
Man, the times they are a-changin'.
Once upon a time, I'd fall asleep in front of the fire, curled up on a tattered baby's blankie. Eventually, I started taking a novel, a coloring book or a copy of the New Yorker to the leather armchair and throw an extra log on the blaze. Last year, I had a pile of term papers to edit before the final end of semester crunch. But this yuletide season, thanks to wireless routers and accessible outlets, I am seated by the hearth with my laptop and a glass of wine, pounding away at PhD application personal statements (and ever insightful blog posts).
At least I'm not text messaging and listening to my ipod...
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