For [these are] the (many many many) hour(s) of my discontent.
Why would the Gods condemn a fair creature such as I to a life indoors, attempting, in vain, to prevent, repair, and restore a machine I naively entrusted to store my personal collection of homemade ? Ah, well. ‘Tis the fate of most or many I is told. Alas, I fear this little lass will spend most or much of her fall and winter sitting on her sweet little until a solution is uncovered or discovered by someone saintly and divine, who will, no doubt, spend as much or more time sitting on their non-gender-specific tush, while they wait for Windows Vista to do whatever it does when it is broken, hoping to have an epiphany so grand it transcends every token update and repair we download in hope and despair, and that all epiphany popping hooligans will end up in their desktop recycle bins. And then maybe I get to see the sun again!
If that doesn't happen, I can always wash, rinse, and repeat, until the man comes to take me to a home, right?
La la la
Hi and hello.
What's My Name Again?
Edited by ForgotMyNameAgain, 26 October 2008 - 12:14 PM.