On frustration

Last Friday I found myself, once again, face to face with the impossible unreliability of modern high-tech. My laptop, aged 6.2 months (!), went berserk and refused to co-operate.
It's now in some (hopefully skilled) repair-person's hands somewhere, and will be back who knows when.
Although this is now actually allowing me more time to read, knit and excercise, for example, I still feel strangely cut-out and lost. Peering at mails and websites from this mobile phone display somehow just isn't the same.

As you can see, I'm torn between my frustration about the poor quality of such products, and the fact that I'm more or less dependent on them. Hmph.