Broken

My life is slowly crumbling around me. Soon I'll be nothing but forgotten ruins, ash, and other post-apocalyptic type imagery.

First, my desktop had a stroke. I turned it on one morning to discover a yellow line down the middle of the screen. Some tube or diode or pixel string has burned out, resulting in an ugly yellow line traversing everything I do. Sometimes I forget about, until I'm watching something and wonder why there's a crack or streamer or something in the middle of the video. Then I remember my screen is broken. Sometimes I get distracted from the video by waiting for the line to perfectly transect a character. In any case, the screen is broken, but I highly doubt it's going to be worthwhile to pay someone to repair a 5 year old Mac. So I'll just have to deal with it.

Then the corruption spread. My PC has fallen prey to a virus. And not your standard, run-of-the-mill slows down your computer virus. This is the cartoonish crashes-everything virus. This virus causes pop-ups to pop up almost as quickly as I can close them. It prevents me from opening my anti-virus software, claiming that the anti-virus software is a virus. The computer has become effectively inusable. Which means . . . I've become a Mac person. Gasp! With the death of my PC I have, by default, become someone who only owns a (functional) Mac. Some of you may have noticed how much more smug and annoying I've been the last couple days. It's because I'm a Mac person now.

Yesterday I left work only to discover that my windshield is cracked. My windshield was not cracked when I went into work, but evidently someone went rally racing in my Subaru while I spend my day in lectures. Upon closer inspection I find a chip below my wiper blades, which I'd assume is the was the source of the crack that now arcs across my passanger side.

Clearly, the end is near. Bit by bit my life is lapsing into disrepair and destruction. My toys are just unable to keep up with my rock and roll lifestyle. Or that gypsy curse has finally caught up with me. Or maybe I'm an adult. One thing's for sure. I don't like it.