It's my own fault that I found it so difficult to discard an old friend. My computer has undergone countless upgrades and tweaks as it met the challenges of more complex software and faster internet. It groaned as it opened up each morning and required constant fiddling to keep operating with a degree of efficiency, but it was set up exactly as I liked and very familiar. I didn't have to think when I wrote.
With the release of "The Alliance" behind me, I paused and investigated the market, feeling a little like Judas Iscariot, as I looked at lightning fast CPUs and seemingly limitless hard drives. Steeling myself, I acted...and sat at my desk with a new computer, new operating system and countless disks of programs and data to load.
It has taken me almost a week, but my old friend now sits quietly in the corner of my office while I adapt to a new reality and return awkwardly to my writing.
Is this reluctance to change a sign that I am growing old?