Dear Box of Loose of Cables in My Closet,

I know you’re hurting. The distance is killing me too. Last night, I woke up in a cold sweat to the thought of not having immediate access to you. I dreamt I had finally found my old TomTom GPS, but when I put it down to locate the car charger that I know is stored safely in your entangled, rubbery sinews… you were nowhere to be found. And of course, when I turned back around, the TomTom itself had once again vanished. Even though I swear I put it down RIGHT HERE.

The basement storage closet is no place for a box of necessities such as yourself, but I can’t risk keeping you under the bed right now. Not while I share this house with the Missus. If she finds out I didn’t toss you in the trash after last summer’s garage sale… there will be hell to pay, of that I am sure. We just need to keep a low profile until she either forgets she made the request, or we part ways indefinitely, but judging by her gleeful preparation for anniversary number ten it looks like we may be in this for the long haul.

Let her think what she thinks. She looks at you and only sees a knot of ethernet cords gripping the backs of forgotten TiVo remotes, but I see much more. I see USB’s and Firewires commingling with DVI’s and IDE’s. Wax-coated earbuds waiting patiently to be called back into service. Half-drained AAA batteries begging to come out of early retirement and give my beard trimmers that last gasp of life. I see possibility. I see potential. I see my own live-in box of technological understudies with solutions at the ready. What would I do without you?

Where was she when I wanted to find out if my Blackberry would still charge? Where was she when I needed headphones for my Wordsworth the Cat Halloween costume? I’d like to see her provide audio and video for movie night when the dog chews through the good HDMI cord and we can’t get to the other HDMI cord because, well, it’s hooked up to the bedroom TV which is sort of a pain to get to because it’s really close to the corner and we never really mounted it correctly.

(By the way, I think the Blackberry had trouble charging because I didn’t tuck the cable underneath it or weigh it down with a vase or something. You kind of have to fiddle with it a little bit from what I remember.)

Gah! What am I saying? That’s not important right now. What’s important is staying strong and keeping busy during these trying months. Do you have anything with you to help occupy your time? I’m pretty sure I left a Buzz Ballads CD case somewhere amidst your cables. I don’t think the actual disc itself is in there, but the little booklet inside is the kind with all of the lyrics so that might help make the days feel shorter.

But you may not need the help after all because as I write this I can see my wife from the living room window. She’s unloading a trunk-load of groceries and, BY GOD, clenched beneath her right arm are two bottles of Portuguese Madeira, purchased for the aforementioned anniversary no doubt.

Now, you know me. I’m typically not a saboteur, but if I know my wife, and I think I do, it will take her approximately one-third of one bottle before she makes an attempt at connecting to the speaker via — and please pardon my language here — Bluetooth. And when she does, I’ll bet any amount that her clumsy fingers, made even more unwieldy from the high octane wine, will fumble her oversized phone sending it careening downwards to the hardwood floor.

“Oh, no,” she’ll say.

“I told you, you should have gotten a case,” I’ll say.

“It’s not turning on,” she’ll say.

“I think your old 4S is still in my dresser,” I’ll say, and take off for the bedroom. And when I come back down she’ll have to charge that compact relic to 100%. And when she realizes all of the old chargers have been stashed away to one particular spot, she’ll only have one place to turn, won’t she?

Rest well, my eternal companion. We will be together again soon.

Forever and Always,