The #1 son is moving home for the summer on Friday evening. On Sunday he will be moving out. He finished finals today, and starts a summer job on Monday. He will be working at a computer engineering firm, doing whatever computer engineers do. For $20 per hour. Not too shabby for a teenager.
Of course, while his work computer is being engineered, my home computer will be slowly wasting away Hillmombaville. Decomposing. I, myself, will be stewing in my own juices. Which are surprisingly similar to the ingredients of Diet Coke. I cannot live without my internet. I am an addict. Don’t try to intervene me. I’m not ready. I need that apron string, that umbilical cord that connects me to cyberspace.
Don’t make me walk into a hotel conference room and see everyone teary-eyed, holding tissues and letters to read to me. I will not go to treatment today. Undortunately, I might be forced to go cold turkey.
My Shiba is quite ill. Something is wrong with her XPCOM. Some kind of .dll file is corrupt. Aren’t they all? Dr. #1 says he cannot see the patient by a remote viewing. He suggests taking a dose of Internet Explorer and calling him tomorrow. When he will make a house call to check Shiba for a case of Firefox.
Please keep my patient in your thoughts.