For about three months, the keyboard on my laptop has gradually been giving up the ghost. Mostly it was the space bar getting more and more temperamental; then I started losing vowels, and I decided it was time to get another keyboard. So I gave the part number to the husbeast - who is the eBay king - and asked him to get me another one.
After about half an hour, he re-appeared and informed me "Your keyboard is on the way. It's attached to a new laptop."
He knows I hate that thing - bad video card, lousy memory, and the keyboard - and apparently had found a good deal.
So today, the new laptop arrived in the mail.
I should be thrilled. I really should. I feel guilty that I'm not. But all I can think about is what a flipping pain in the ass it is to change everything over to the new computer. Mind you, this is with most of the files on a 500 gig external hard drive and 'moving' that is a matter of unplugging it from one computer and plugging it into the other.
The husbeast, of course, is geeking out all over it and has apparently gone off and bought himself another - at a very good deal - to replace his own laptop.
So I get my dream, to beat the old computer to death with a ten pound sledge hammer. I'm sure I'll take photos and post them.
Still knitting on assorted little things I want done before I leave for Florida, I think Sunday will be the day. Pretty sure. (I'm not big on schedules. I'm sure no one noticed.) One more baby booty to sew up, some more wet blocking to do, and it's all in the mail. Yay.
There have been several studies showing that children who grow up with books in the house are smarter. (I wonder about cause and effect in these studies. A whole lot.) The newest claims (I'm not convinced) are that for every five books the kid's IQ goes up ten points or something.
So I guess I'm raising Einstein. The hair's right, anyway.