crossing the line

January 6th, 2002

I always knew there would come a time when it occurred to me that a line had been crossed. Maybe the first time I take the laptop to bed. Or when I get a network connection in the bathroom.

I think it may have happened tonight. I’m in my basement office doing some ‘pooter stuff and I see that my wife Clare has come on to Yahoo Instant Messenger from the kitchen upstairs to send some mail to her mother. We have an IM discussion about the hyperactive kids who are right there beside her, niggling each other as kids do.

How very Jetsons.

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