Waking up to the phone ringing is never good news. Unless, that is, it's Fed Ex wanting to know your apartment
number so they may deliver a computer fresh from California; fresh from repairs being made. Then it's good news. Thirty minutes later said computer is safely in house being hugged happily. Joy
of joys it's back! It is quickly rushed into the bedroom and reattached to 'The Matrix' *cough* okay, not
really, but eh it sounded cool.
Anyway, it's hooked back up to everything- and it's all good; right? Wrong. After a small search for the CD
that would load the internet software needed to run the DSL modem, to no avail panic starts to tickle the back of the
throat. No big deal, it was misplaced. Smiling and chuckling, the drawer is searched deeper, and deeper... and deeper.
Fuck it. Everything is released in a panicky maelstrom of WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?! Apparently, not in the desk. Eventually
calm was reclaimed and the mess that had been made restored. A more calm search of the mess prior still did not reveal
the location the elusive internet CD. Hmmm... this is shaping up to be a good mystery indeed. Where oh where could that
dastardly CD have gotten off to? Was it abused? Did it seek solace at the bottom of a bottle? Did it find drugs to its
taste? Was this poor neglected CD living under a bridge selling itself for sexual acts not readily describable to the
weak of heart? Or was it merely lost somewhere in the jungle of mess and havok that passed for a room?
Well, where it was, it wasn't in the desk. Instead the manga bookshelf was next. It never knew what hit it. We
mourn those that were lost and move on. It is a viscious circle of life, yet it somehow moves forward into tommorow. Not
on the manga bookshelf. The XBox cabinet quivered in fear for it knew the predator had set eyes on it. The Discovery
channel would refuse to show that carnage. Yet, during this melee that passed for
a search, the bastard CD had yet to materialize. The closet door was crying in fear. Oh yes, that sub roomlet was next
on the agenda. Dear God man, what is wrong with you?! Insanity my dear Watson, insanity. Not in the closet. It got
turned out three times or more. One question begs yet to be asked again.
WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT CD?!
Not in the room. Dammit. Roomates subsequent search of their room turned up nothing either. Ergo, the phone company had to be called. Someone's ears were burning that day... So, said CD will arrive in the mail in two to three business days. Yay! All in the land of Id were wrought in a great celebration.
Weeeelll not quite. There was a dark cloud yet on the horizon. Oh noes!
Oh noes indeed children. Parents, it is advised that you have any young children leave the room for the remainder of
this tale is not fit for the innocence of children. Still here? Well, you are indeed brave friend.
*clack clack clack* There is no other sound quite as soothing as the sound of keystrokes being made; is there? Well, there is the sound of ones head bashing repeatedly against the desktop in sheer frustration. The mouse port decided to titmouse up. Yes, the port went out. Crap. Compaq surely recognizes the sound of this customers voice by now. They've heard it more than most others. It's true! At any rate, after the old round and round with tech support and after fifty damn assurances that it wasn't the physical mouse, that it was indeed the port that which was the original complaint; assurance was made that a technician would arrive at the apartment and replace the apparently (well no shit Sherlock) faulty motherboard. It would cost twenty nine dollars to replace said faulty part.
...
Now, twenty nine dollars for just the labor isn't a big issue, but it is when you've juuuuuust gotten the computer back from a month long stint out of state. It's an even bigger issue when this is the third time that said computer has been in need of technical supoprt beyond that which is able to be accomplished in house.
