Materialism strikes.

I lost my laptop briefly yesterday. Due to my own stupidity. I managed to leave it in a library I'd been working with, while I blithely continued on to a coffee shop. Once I discovered my loss, I screamed - screamed - and hyperventilated all the way back to the library.

In my head, I had become convinced somehow that I had left it on the trunk of my car and driven off, and that someone had subsequently taken it/run over it. I mean, the whole reason I knew I hadn't left it in the library is that I'm surgically attached to the damn thing. We go everywhere together. And it is heavy; how could I not notice not carrying an extra 8+ pounds? When I couldn't find it, I made panicked phone calls to Himself and my boss, and contemplated what I could possibly file with the police that would meet muster with the insurance company...

Imagine my shame when I spotted it in the corner of the library where I'd been working, at least half an hour after my original panic.

Nothing on the laptop is irreplaceable, though it would be a real PITA to put it all back on. What really gets me about this whole thing is how attached I am to a thing. I don't think of myself as a materialist - I like nice stuff, sure, but there are more important things, nothing lasts forever, &etc., and my stuff's never really defined me. But, um, my laptop? I freaked out like it was a person. Like, love makes you real and all that. Like I felt when the dogs ripped apart my childhood teddy bear. And that's kind of sick. I mean, you can anthropomorphize a bear, at least, but electronics?

Well, anyway, it's not lost. So, I'll back everything up tonight, and have a long think about my priorities. I'm not sure I want to be the sort of person who gets that upset about an object. Even a very nice, very expensive, very useful object. It may, however, be too late; in which case I will work on the graceful acceptance part.