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Woo-hoo, I have managed to persuade my Mum's IIsi out onto the web... at 30mHz and 14.4 baud, this is something like going from a servicable Toyota to a go-kart, but it beats walking over to the library in this heat.
The current situation is as follows: the other lobe of my brain, familiarly known as Griff, is checked into the service department at Chicago's MicroCenter branch, having exibited what seemed to be signs of imminent picture-tube failure. The clerk said they'd have a look and call me with a preliminary diagnosis, Wednesday-at-the-earliest, so I do not yet know what's wrong... but it costs $75 to find out. (Which isn't that unreasonable, IF one has it to spare which I never do...) So I have spent the last few days fretting, and repeatedly checking the impulse to wander into my 'office' to work or play games or go online or update this journal, and NOT getting anywhere towards editing the Manuscript because I can't edit and fret at the same time.
I have a hardcopy of the current state of the manuscript. I also have current backups tucked away in a keychain-USB drive that I obtained during an earlier moment of Disposable Income, specifically splurged on because Griff had already been in the hospital once while I've been working on this novel and if you think I've been having hysterics now, this is NOTHING compared to seeing me wandering around with only floppy-based backups. (I live in terror that my idiot neighbors will manage to burn the building down any time I dare walk out the door.) So I am at least not in a 'OMG I left the only copy in a handbag' sort of a panic. Just rather ticked at the timing of all this.
The landlord's present state of mind is unknown.I worry over this because I would very much like to have a stable return address through at least the next few months... Part of the immediate difficulty is that Mum has been encountering delays in getting compensated for that fall at work noted herein a week or two ago... this should get cleared up by Friday. We hope.
So I am pacing the floor outside the operating theatre, wondering and fretting, and reduced to the most primitive of conditions in the meanwhile. And cut off from my mail altogether as my ISP refuses to even consider servicing anyone so behind-the-times as to use lower than Netscape 5, which not even Griff has bothered to be updated to yet. But it's generally only spam anyhow...
Your donations towards Griff's medical care are still needed. I haven't tried yet to coax the IIsi over to the PayPal site to see if this is having any effect, but heck, I've seen stories about people asking for microdonations towards breast augmentation surgery, so am I so out of line to set up a 'maimed computer of the week medical fund'...? :)
Still praying to Steve that it's not the tube... [resumes pacing]
The current situation is as follows: the other lobe of my brain, familiarly known as Griff, is checked into the service department at Chicago's MicroCenter branch, having exibited what seemed to be signs of imminent picture-tube failure. The clerk said they'd have a look and call me with a preliminary diagnosis, Wednesday-at-the-earliest, so I do not yet know what's wrong... but it costs $75 to find out. (Which isn't that unreasonable, IF one has it to spare which I never do...) So I have spent the last few days fretting, and repeatedly checking the impulse to wander into my 'office' to work or play games or go online or update this journal, and NOT getting anywhere towards editing the Manuscript because I can't edit and fret at the same time.
I have a hardcopy of the current state of the manuscript. I also have current backups tucked away in a keychain-USB drive that I obtained during an earlier moment of Disposable Income, specifically splurged on because Griff had already been in the hospital once while I've been working on this novel and if you think I've been having hysterics now, this is NOTHING compared to seeing me wandering around with only floppy-based backups. (I live in terror that my idiot neighbors will manage to burn the building down any time I dare walk out the door.) So I am at least not in a 'OMG I left the only copy in a handbag' sort of a panic. Just rather ticked at the timing of all this.
The landlord's present state of mind is unknown.I worry over this because I would very much like to have a stable return address through at least the next few months... Part of the immediate difficulty is that Mum has been encountering delays in getting compensated for that fall at work noted herein a week or two ago... this should get cleared up by Friday. We hope.
So I am pacing the floor outside the operating theatre, wondering and fretting, and reduced to the most primitive of conditions in the meanwhile. And cut off from my mail altogether as my ISP refuses to even consider servicing anyone so behind-the-times as to use lower than Netscape 5, which not even Griff has bothered to be updated to yet. But it's generally only spam anyhow...
Your donations towards Griff's medical care are still needed. I haven't tried yet to coax the IIsi over to the PayPal site to see if this is having any effect, but heck, I've seen stories about people asking for microdonations towards breast augmentation surgery, so am I so out of line to set up a 'maimed computer of the week medical fund'...? :)
Still praying to Steve that it's not the tube... [resumes pacing]
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