Forgive me if I ramble - I'm a little distraught.
My youngest has been stricken down in his prime - and I'm having trouble dealing with it.
I stop at home on the way to the gym at lunch yesterday, and my wife tells me there's something wrong with Sammy. His full name is Samsung Hp-t4264, but I call him Sammy. (For Sammy Davis Jr, another wonderful black entertainer.) Sammy just shut off and instead of turning on, just makes a "click click" sound.
I immediately started revival procedures - I unplugged him and let him cool down. (Sammy usually did run a bit hot - it's his passion for the cinema that burns inside him.) When I got home after work, and all Sammy did was make that soul-crushing noise, I knew I had to seek professional help.
So this morning I bundled Sammy up in the blanket we brought him home in, snuggled him into the car, and drove him to Comox, where the nearest specialist is. I won't lie, a single tear rolled down my cheek when I left Sammy with the "Technician" (or whatever they call their Doctors.)
They'll let me know by Friday how much it'll cost to "fix" Sammy. I said money wasn't an object - the wife disagreed and said that $300 is the limit she's willing to go. (I don't understand - we've only had Tristan for 18 months longer than we've had Sammy - yet I know she'd pay more if something went wrong with him.)
So I'll wait by the phone until I hear from them - hoping and praying that Sammy will be okay. I can't even look at the spot where he used to be - his 21-inch cousin "Citizen" sits there now - but it isn't the same.
Come back to me Sammy - step away from the light.