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Got home from work. Rowed with mother over something small because of her being hormonal or something, I don't know. Rowed with father because of rowing with mother. Acquiesed from state of purest rage to mere sullen silence for Cantonese chicken.

The crossword in the Independant was taxing enough that I retired up into my library and technical room. Having punched my father in the face earlier on in order to get some semblance of networking working, I was assured of enough space and time alone as I needed for my project.

You see, this was no ordinary evening that passed up here. This evening, I was raising the dead. Leatherman in hand, I removed the black, pustulous heart from my poor laptop, casting it aside in all of it's magnetic aberration. For in the post this morning had arrived a stronger, faster heart, packed in anti-static ice, capable of holding more blood and pumping it to the other organs with much greater alacrity.

I screwed on the mountings with a careful reverence, before adding the connector-plate and making the final connection. Resting the cover which prevented just any ruffian from accessing the internals of my machine back over the top, and fired it up. I then began the painstaking work of configuring the device to allow the machine to access and use it.

And it works. I had the few useful parts of the last hard drive stored on another machine, but a work of genius spared me the night's task of using zip disks to transport the data between the two. Well, a work of genius and a PCMCIA network card. Good thing I did shoot my father in the face.

The new HD is silent, so very silent. It is nearly impossible to hear over the fan of the laptop. And faster, too, so very faster.

Now, if only I had been able to save the 1.7 SeaDragon Mozilla installer...


( 2 informants — We want information! )
Mar. 3rd, 2004 03:30 pm (UTC)
Awesome to hear.

And I finally procured myself a copy of the Knoppix-STD Linux distro, and it's mucho cool also.

All is good in the world.
Mar. 4th, 2004 09:37 am (UTC)
If it ain't PMT it's the Menopause. Ever think that women are just making excuses for being vicious, emotion bombs?
( 2 informants — We want information! )



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