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The sound was deafening — CRASH!

Even though there was no actual sound, inside my head it was like a thousand bombs exploding.

Escape … nothing.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Control-Alt-Delete ... nothing.

Come on baby, reboot ... nothing.

This can’t be happening. My computer is crashing now?

What about my article, all my files? Is everything gone forever into the abyss? How will I survive?

OK, keep your cool, don’t panic. Who am I kidding? I am panicking!

Breathe, Nancy, breathe.

Now, what do I do? It’s 9:30 p.m. Is there a 24-hour emergency computer repair service? Nope.

Where’s the phone book? I guess it will have to wait till the morning. Ugh!

I take a deep breath and try to persuade myself everything would be fine.

What a restless night’s sleep, worrying about all my lost data. What about all the e-mails I haven’t been able to read or answer?
And my Facebook, oh, my Facebook! I’m nowhere without my news, sports and weather pages.

It’s funny in a way. I constantly accuse my husband of being a technology junkie because he is forever on his Blackberry — or “Crackberry” as we like to call it. It is never out of arm’s reach, and he texts, checks scores and reads e-mails all from the comfort and convenience of wherever he is.

But me — I’m not that bad.

Of course, you don’t realize how reliant you are on something until you’re suddenly without it.

The first thing I did when I woke the next morning was to wait impatiently to take my computer for repair at 1 p.m. when the service opened. (They really need to reconsider those hours.)

As soon as I could, I rushed her over to the local computer guru’s. This seemed to be the equivalent of rushing one of my children to the ER (sad, I know).

What’s the matter with her, Doc? Will she ever run again? They seem pretty confident they can recover my data and fix her up good as new, but it will take a few days.

DAYS?! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? How will I function?

It was the most miserable week of my life.

Day one: I called my editor and told her my article would be late because my computer crashed. She was sympathetic and told me not to worry.

I had to use my hubby’s computer to e-mail the troops to let them know I’d be out of commission for a couple of days (wishful thinking).

Day two: I was having withdrawal symptoms.

My head was spinning as I worried about all the “important” things I was missing. What if someone posted something I needed to know on Facebook?

How would I keep in touch with everyone? Call them on the — gulp — telephone?

How would I know who’s on the NFL injury reports — watch ESPN?
How would I possibly know what the weather was going to be tomorrow — watch The Weather Channel?

I was growing impatient, and I’m definitely going to call and see if my computer is ready tomorrow.

Day three: How did I ever survive without a computer?

I can’t even imagine how many e-mails are piling up.

You know what else I can’t imagine? That my computer isn’t ready yet! Don’t they know how imperative it is that I get my computer back as soon as possible?

I cannot believe how far gone I am, how dependent I am on this technology that when I am suddenly without it, my life seemingly stops dead in its tracks.

My children want to know why I’m so cranky. What to do, what to do?

Day four: My computer still is not fixed.

I go promptly to my Sprint dealer and buy a cell phone with Internet capability — the very thing that I constantly get on my husband’s case about! But I know I won’t be nearly as obsessed as he is. After all, it’s a little crazy, right?

Who needs that kind of dependence on technology? It turns out I do. Now, I know why.

Day five: Within a few hours I have my phone pretty well set up. I have my Facebook page, my texting, my e-mails, my breaking news feed, my NFL stats — everything up and running on this tiny little “computer” phone.

Life is good.

I don’t have to wait till I’m home to check my e-mails, sports scores and Facebook. How on earth have I lived without this for so long?
Ring, ring, ring. It’s the computer guys, and my baby is ready.

I rush over to the store to escort her safely home. I gently plug her in and boot her up.

Ah, the sweet sound of Windows. There’s nothing like it. All my data appears to be safe and sound.

(I have definitely learned a lesson about regularly backing up my hard drive.)

My name is Nancy, and I am a technology addict. Maybe I should start a support group.

Nancy Duffy is a mother of two Stokesdale Elementary students and a Northwest High student.