Shit Happens

Our computer “took a morte” yesterday. That’s French for died. It’s supposed to be French. It may not be. I don’t speak French. I’m just repeating what my Dad say’s when something stops working.

It took a morte.

Having your computer die on you is like having a baby. There’s never a good time for it. It just happens. Sometimes it’s planned. Most of the time, though, it’s not.

We didn’t plan for our computer to die. And it’s really bad timing. Very inconsiderate if I do say so myself. Not to mention, inconvenient.

We’re not sure if it’s the motherboard, the battery or if we’ll have to replace the damn thing entirely. Baaaaaaad timing. On the heels of the replacement water pump. Life without a computer at home could be good. One less distraction from the multitude of things on my pre-holiday to-do list. But how am I going to be notified of things? Like party invitations for parties where they’ll serve lots of food (that I didn’t have to make), and lots of spiked hot drinks (because I don’t have to drive).

I suppose I could get on with the cookie baking. But most likely I will be loitering around the entrance of our small town library with the absurd hours, waiting for them to open, so I can snag a computer and check my email.

Please support your local libararies.

I'm going through withdrawal.  It's like a part of me died. I don’t know what to do with myself. Pacing the house wanting to boot the thing up and knowing I can't. It's torture.

So here’s some unsolicited advice from me:
Hug your computer every day.

And back it up!

Because one day it will be gone. You won’t know when it’s coming and it will be extremely inconvenient.

And you’ll be up Shit’s Creek without a DOS window or an operating system.