Backing My Sh*t Up

(Title edited for the faint hearted.)

Oh, Sweet Blog of Mine!

I've been staring at everyone else's blogs for more than a week now, and I haven't the foggiest idea what to write about. It's like the well has dried up. Has the well dried up?

No!

I'm just hot, and tired, and cranky, and I. Miss. My. iBook.

I seriously can't get into the swing of thinking on a keyboard when it's in our sweltering home office, or on the laptop at work (incidentally, both are PC's: hiss!). But here I am, sweltering in the sweltering home office, because my beloved bought a fancy new printer/fax/copier/scanner and doesn't have room on his hard drive to install the software.

This = Eviction of the Cam

Not my actual person, mind you. Just my dusty files, sitting on his drive. I've got about 6GB of music in an iTunes account - and it's all been duplicated on my iBook, and some photography from the wedding... Plus odd resumes and conversations and stuff... But he says it all has to go.

So. I'm backing my shit up. A boring process in a sweltering room. Sweltering. Pretty soon I'm going to start repeating that word until it sounds wrong. I love that.

Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
Sweltering.
All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.

Just kidding. I don't want to scare away my tiny readership with fear of twins, rivers of blood, and/or "correcting" willful children and spouses with an axe.

My heavens, when will this backing up be done? You're all thinking, "Sheesh. I liked her better when she was mute with sadness over her iBook."

Yeah, well, I'll get back on the hoss. I will. Just after I finish backing my shit up.