Message in a Bottle

To Whomsoever Finds These Words:

I've been nearly two weeks now on this island, and still no sign of rescue. The weather, while cooperative today, has made staying off the World Wide Waste of Time a veritable test of my sanity.

The computer taunts me, its outdated Obama wallpaper faintly winking with the promise of primo procrastination. Despite its best efforts, the laundry gets done, the dished washed and put away, and the small child that seems to be native to these sands receives the bulk of my attention.

At times, it seems, I can hear the computer breathing, faintly chuckling to itself in an electronic hum masked as its internal fan. No matter. I am fairly certain that I am stronger than this metallic beast, weak at times though I am.

I am ashamed to admit that I've been checking my e-mail more than twice a day. While this has of yet to unleash a searchlust that willpower cannot tame, I am fairly certain that I am playing with fire. There is also the matter of the Internet shopping, but I am happy to report it has been limited as of yet. Doubtless both these things give the computer more than its fair share of power, but I have as of yet to cave into Facebook, Twitter, or my Internet forum.

The drums, then, though I hear them, have lessened their frenetic beat. It's more of a quiet rumble, though at times their activity picks up and leaves me worried.

My eyes stay trained on the horizon, knowledgeable that my hope comes in May-- if I choose to leave then. This island has a subtle charm, and I may be seduced by it yet.

No doubt the computer will keep up with its tricks and deceptions. I aim to defeat them.

I am happy to report that the food, at least, is plentiful.

Faithfully yours,

C. Milkweed, Esq.