My trusty MacBook died yesterday. It was the first Mac I ever owned and it served me well. Through several states, many campaigns and hours and hours of work. When I got it I taught myself how to use it and how to use Adobe Illustrator and Photoshop all the same weekend so I could design mail for political campaigns. Those first days, like so many in a relationship, were fun and exciting yet still lacking in a total trust. So much so that I kept a p.c. for another year. I even went back to a p.c. for a while - cheating I guess - and of course regretted it as anyone would.
If you look at the picture above, you can see the tape that had been holding the case together and keeping the dust out. The mouse pad no longer worked quite right and I couldn't even upgrade most of the software on it. Maybe that makes me cheap - I prefer frugal by the way - but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a new one when the old one still worked.
I'm now the owner of a shiny new MacBook Pro. It's nice and fast and pretty - but I have to admit I miss my old Mac.
