I have my own computer back now and it’s such a relief. There’s always a catch, though. . . . it’s been wiped clean, and my Microsoft Word code no longer works (the year “2003” probably means something) so all of my Word files are useless until I figure out what to do. There are several options, of course. I think the smartest thing for me right now is to wait until my extremely intelligent son comes down this weekend and perhaps if I bribe coax him with food, he’ll give my computer a thorough once-over.

Seriously, I hold the patent/copyright/all possible rights to the Kiss of Death. Not for people, so come back here right now! For anything mechanical or electronic, and for restaurants, shops, bands, and entire strip malls.

Once Karma finds out that I like/love/frequent anything, it’s as good as gone. I’ve personally wiped out dozens of restaurants and small shops, and any band liked by me goes immediately on hiatus, never to be together on a stage again.

I did realize that having the Parental Controls on high was slowing me down. That’s gone now, so I can surf porn wholesome family and educational websites freely now.

And Scotty dear, I promise not to inflict my technopoison on YOUR computer. When do we have supper? So far I haven’t shut down Grecco’s yet. Call me. Tomorrow’s good, but I have a dental appointment on Friday morning.

I’m still up.

Two more weeks of vacation before I go back to school. Will I ever get used to NOT having a pile of essays that need to be graded? No, I don’t think I ever will.

And that small fact makes me so happy. . . .

That’s how frustrated I am right now.

Is this just Tuesday? This has been a very trying week.

Everything is breaking.

Mowers, computers. . . . all the things I need the most.

I took my computer to the shop this morning (yes, I got up early whilst on vacation!) and of course, there was no scary white screen for any expert to see. We were just in time, however, to see the tail end of one of the ‘recovery’ F10’s I tried last night but couldn’t finish because the screen kept going white. At the end of this recovery, there seemed to be nothing left on my computer. I am hoping against hope that I imagined it, but it did seem to be wiped clean. Ten thousand mp3’s and all my files and logins and passwords, gone gone gone.

Magic Jack is going to try to retrieve them but I don’t have much any hope, not really.

It’s very hard to do my ‘thangs’ on a computer that isn’t mine. Hub is wonderful to let me use his but it isn’t the same. We are both extremely territorial about our computers, and I would never feel free to download anything or ‘play’ on any computer that wasn’t mine.

I left Magic Jack my flashdrive in hopes he could find some things on it that would help him retrieve my stuffs. <--Look, Cousin C, I'm talking like Mamaw now. In the meantime, the grass is two feet high, and I’m full of ideas I’d love to write about but can’t because I don’t remember my stupid logins for the business blogs. My

Here we go again.

There I was, sitting right here right next to where I’m sitting now, typing away because that is my JOB and also because I love it and writing means more to me than it meant to Emily Starr * even, and I looked up to see that my monitor had turned whiter than the little wisps of hair by my ears. Just, white. Not black, as my monitor usually gets when my computer dies and eats all my music and files as it descends into hell, but snow white.

And it won’t come back.

It tried, but before I could hit F10 and recover anything, it went white again. And again. And again.

Now it doesn’t TURN white, it’s white when it comes on.

So, I unplugged everything and carried it gently into the living room and placed it beside the piano and my huge hideous ten-ton black leather purse-which-looks-like-a-saddlebag, not to be confused with the big ones I carry all the time, and tomorrow I’ll take it to Jack and Linda at the computer repair store; you know, where they know me by name because I’ve spent half my life there. . . .

And I’ll beg them to revive it. I’ll get down on my knees if they ask me to. I’ve got all my passwords and log-ins stored on it and I don’t remember what they are. Magic Jack, I’m remembering to say “please” and “thank you.” Mom says those are magic words.

Hub is letting me use his computer in the meantime, and I appreciate it mightily, but I can update my business blogs and do my ‘thangs’ elsewhere on the internet only from the computer that knows my logins and passwords. Yes, I know I should have written them down somewhere else. No, I don’t think anybody else knows them.

And if my computer, which is only two years old for crying out loud, is really dead, you will all hear me wailing like Westley in the Pit of Despair. And without Mandy Patinkin and Billy Crystal to fix me. **

Although, Mandy, if you were to stop by to ‘fix’ me. . . . .

Okay, never mind.

Wahhhhh, my computer whited out on me. And I think it’s all dead this time.

Stupid computer.

*Bonus points if you understand this reference.

**No bonus points for this one because everybody should know it.