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I held a little miracle in my hands today.
The Dell repairman came bright and early at 10:40, just five minutes after I got out of the shower and actually perfectly timed because, as it turns out, my hair needs neither product nor blowdrying given the softness of the water in this house. *lays offerings at feet of French stylist*
Anyway, so he, a gentlemanly twentysomething expatriat of California, started taking apart my computer as I tried to make conversation about Europe and school and whatever else while wringing my hands as more and more screws come out and panels come off and that's the last three years of my life and sent up the usual irrational pleas to deities I don't believe in (though computers should seriously come with guardian angels, as I'm sure any one of you would attest.) Anyway, after something of an anatomy lesson, he changed the video card and started putting everything back in its rightful slots and holes. I started to breathe again, and picked up the largest piece he removed (only because it was housed in a black plastic case - I don't touch guts natural or mechanic) that looked like a large, thick-ish wireless card.
"Oh, that's your hard drive."
I almost dropped it. Like, I jumped and fumbled for a brief second. Seriously, it was a little like what I imagine a surgeon holding a human heart must feel. Forget about breathing again; I just stared in wonder. It's no longer than the tips of my fingers to my wrist and no wider than my palm, and only slightly thicker than my hand, yet it's thirty gigabytes of pictures and word documents and bookmarks and fic and my life. In my hand. It looked so small to mean so much, you know? I stared and stroked and didn't realize he was waiting for it until I shook my head out of my reverent daze and gave it back.
Okay, someone please tell me that didn't make me sound as pathetic as I feel. But, Douglas! My boy is whole and well again, and as the repairman assured me, in excellent condition for being three years old. *hugs him tight*
In other news, can I not feel ready for Challenge?
Besides being a walking advertisement for the goodness of French bread and bakeries - because I needed those eight-or-so extra pounds, y'see - I haven't updated about my trip for real in three weeks because of my dearly departed video card, haven't checked the flist in a month and a half, am in dire need of actual relaxation instead of the manicked catch-up my body is making somewhat spastic efforts toward, and have ficficfic! to read, now in two fandoms, thank you Director Cuaron and Order of the Phoenix. Also, not being up on anything real/meta/other news-wise in fandom, I'm already feeling left out of conversations once half my world descends on my zip code. In a week. Four days if you're Schiz. *meep*
None of which constitutes anything one could call an actual problem. Also, the boys are performing together, and I'm rather fond of the national anthem, and a good chunk of the people I love will be here, so mostly, I'm gonna shut up, finish reading the journal I currently have open, and go do some sit-ups.
The soundtrack to Prisoner of Azkaban is making me mist up here. *sigh* Remus Lupin, you so own me.
Anyway, so he, a gentlemanly twentysomething expatriat of California, started taking apart my computer as I tried to make conversation about Europe and school and whatever else while wringing my hands as more and more screws come out and panels come off and that's the last three years of my life and sent up the usual irrational pleas to deities I don't believe in (though computers should seriously come with guardian angels, as I'm sure any one of you would attest.) Anyway, after something of an anatomy lesson, he changed the video card and started putting everything back in its rightful slots and holes. I started to breathe again, and picked up the largest piece he removed (only because it was housed in a black plastic case - I don't touch guts natural or mechanic) that looked like a large, thick-ish wireless card.
"Oh, that's your hard drive."
I almost dropped it. Like, I jumped and fumbled for a brief second. Seriously, it was a little like what I imagine a surgeon holding a human heart must feel. Forget about breathing again; I just stared in wonder. It's no longer than the tips of my fingers to my wrist and no wider than my palm, and only slightly thicker than my hand, yet it's thirty gigabytes of pictures and word documents and bookmarks and fic and my life. In my hand. It looked so small to mean so much, you know? I stared and stroked and didn't realize he was waiting for it until I shook my head out of my reverent daze and gave it back.
Okay, someone please tell me that didn't make me sound as pathetic as I feel. But, Douglas! My boy is whole and well again, and as the repairman assured me, in excellent condition for being three years old. *hugs him tight*
In other news, can I not feel ready for Challenge?
Besides being a walking advertisement for the goodness of French bread and bakeries - because I needed those eight-or-so extra pounds, y'see - I haven't updated about my trip for real in three weeks because of my dearly departed video card, haven't checked the flist in a month and a half, am in dire need of actual relaxation instead of the manicked catch-up my body is making somewhat spastic efforts toward, and have ficficfic! to read, now in two fandoms, thank you Director Cuaron and Order of the Phoenix. Also, not being up on anything real/meta/other news-wise in fandom, I'm already feeling left out of conversations once half my world descends on my zip code. In a week. Four days if you're Schiz. *meep*
None of which constitutes anything one could call an actual problem. Also, the boys are performing together, and I'm rather fond of the national anthem, and a good chunk of the people I love will be here, so mostly, I'm gonna shut up, finish reading the journal I currently have open, and go do some sit-ups.
The soundtrack to Prisoner of Azkaban is making me mist up here. *sigh* Remus Lupin, you so own me.