Sonja bought me my first and only lap top computer a year and a half ago. Just in time too. The house computer was croaking at the very same time I unwrapped the portable number and I had not used it since I got the lap top sorted out.
Couple days ago the lap top croaked for no good reason. I put it in the fix it shop where some shifty motherfucker will bleed me dry before I ever see it again. Only trouble was that I have this writing habit that needs regular feeding so I went back to the house computer to see what would happen if I turned it back on.
It was still fucked. Fucked as the Dope City Canucks. But I persevered with it, managed to get in a bit of writing before it would croak again and performed what little computer first aid I am capable of on the fucked beast of a thing. Now the house computer is working problem free. Do not ask me why.
Now that I have been sitting here for a few days I am reminded how much more comfortable it is to write at a desk in my big ripped up office chair. There is lots of room for beer and empty beers around the monitor and I cannot hear Sonja when she asks me to do the things I really should be doing instead of writing and drinking beer.
The Hammer comes and checks on me once every hour or so. I pet her and sometimes she lies under the desk by my smelly feet.
I think the lap top is going to be getting a lot less use until the house computer inevitably shudders to a halt once again.