The big computer - the one upstairs that gets used for non-bloggy things - is officially on the fritz. Well, I assume it is, at least. The fact that it won't load up, preferring instead to emit a regular ticking noise from the direction of the hard-drive, confirms my suspicion. This is not good.
It's not good because my iTunes library is on it. It's not good because a lot of my photos are on there, too. But mainly it's not good because it might involve buying a new computer.
The expense is one thing. Given the choice between having the money in my account or in someone else's, it's a no-brainer. However, needs must when the Devil vomits in your kettle. In any case, the actual pain stems from the buying process itself.
I can't be the first person to have noticed that PC World is Pac-Man made real, can I? When you're just browsing the aisles, you can't avoid the ghosts, sorry, sales attendants, no matter which corner you turn. They're stalking you. Yes, you can indeed help me, callow youth. By naffing off until I need you. But when you actually want to buy something, it's like you've eaten a power pellet. They scatter to the four corners of the
Let's say you manage to ensnare one of them, and get to the point where you've decided on a model. There must be some parallel universe where you simply pay up, take your box and leave. But not here. Oh no. For we must first talk about support packages. And extended warranties. What really gets my goat is the look they give you when you say no. It's as if it's the first time they've ever heard the word. The look says:
"I've been in this shop, man and boy, for five-and-twenty years. I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark, near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time. Like tears in rain. Time to die."
To which the response is, "Hang on, are you channelling Rutger Hauer's character from Blade Runner?"
I digress. Maybe I should buy a Mac instead.