Sunday, July 01, 2007

Funeral for a F(r)iend

I was going to title this post, "I Hate Dell," but I feel I must take some responsibility for the periodic breakdown of every laptop I've owned. I'm a little rough on my computer, as evidenced by the grooves worn into the spacebar like the depressions in the stone steps of ancient cathedrals. And by the way the keys occasionally pop out and fly across the room while I'm typing. I can't count the number of times I've tripped over the power cord and sent the laptop spilling off the coffee table (in eight years I've probably gone through 8-10 power cord/AC adaptors -- they've made them more rugged in recent years, which I attribute to my crash-testing). Then, of course, there was the punching the screen incident, but that's a different story.

Anyway, when the computer started flashing ominous messages a few days ago, shutting down Windows and talking of damage to my hard drive, I at least had the foresight to back up everything onto my external hard drive. Which really saved my bacon when it crashed for good Friday evening. After going through the charade of Dell's usual catch-all solution of reformatting, in spite of the fact that the hard drive was vibrating and clattering like a set of china tumbling in a clothes dryer, it was finally determined, at 8:27 am, Central Daylight Time, the 30th of June, 2007, that the hard drive was indeed dead. New one on the way in 3-5 days.

It seems these melt-downs occur mainly around the holidays, which is a blessing in a way. Fewer clients around to make demands. And I'm also lucky to have an Internet cafe less than a hundred steps from my apartment. And that most of the work done since the backup was preserved as e-mail attachments.

But I am already living like Ben Franklin, writing out the hour or so of lost work in long-hand for typing up later. And at least two presentations to draft like that this week. I really don't write as well by hand. And the typing is pure drudgery. I need an intern. One who is fluent in chicken-scratch.

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