bread+butter+baker+dough+yeast+bakery+consumer

I sit in front of my computer. At work, four monitors, at home, just one. My wife has a laptop bought with my student discount. I have an iPhone, my wife a cheap Android. We are never far--no one, it seems, is ever far--away from a CPU at any given time. My son is seven months. He can't crawl yet, let alone walk, run, or blog. At work, the computer makes me money. I am gratefully called upon, dozens of times a day, to master it as a tool of many facets--financial, data storage and retrieval, communication, on and on. I connect to other computers, remotely, virtual and standard. In any given day I will have "touched" between two and 24 different computers. At home it is my escape. It is to me what the bathroom and newspaper were to Al Bundy. It is an entertainer, both interactive and passive. It is recorder, record keeper, filing cabinet, window to the world, toolbox, toy, revealer and confidant. It is ubiquitous, but it is not joy. It is not love. It is not wholeness. It is not freedom. It is not necessary. It is a myriad of collocated conveniences, nothing more, employed because the alternatives take more effort.