July 2007


Oh, I’m in such a pissy mood right now. My laptop gave up and died this Saturday, after three and a half years of (all in all) loyal service. I suppose three and a half years for a laptop is okay, but I’m SO not ready to let go. I managed to get in and back up the few photos I’d saved after re-installing in May, and my Sims 2 game, so nothing important was lost. Except all my bookmarks, which I forgot to back up. The shittiest part, though, is that Boyfriend’s laptop is away on service, so now we have to fight over Ye Olde Desktoppe, that’s too old and cranky to even run the Sims2. I’m having serious withdrawal. I installed the game in the vain hope that it somehow MAGICALLY would run, despite it all, and I got it to start, but… actual playing was like looking at a slide-show, even with all the settings set to the minimum. Call the waaahmbulance, ’cause I’m seriously dying here.

We’re also beginning to suspect that our house is, in fact, built on top of the Gates to Hell. The entrance and stairwell is littered with passive aggressive notes, as well as the laundry room, and Bitchy Neighbour Downstairs is whining that SillyDog is too loud when moving around the apartment after SEVEN O’CLOCK in the evening. Boyfriend’s been attacked by various Know-it-alls who try to tell him how to handle dogs while walking SillyDog – the entire neighbourhood seems to consist of whiny, bitchy, butthurt crybabies. And the most annoying thing since we moved here? All our electronics break. Seriously. First it was the espresso machine, then Boyfriend’s macbook, and now my laptop.

And because both fixing the laptop and upgrading Ye Olde Desktoppe would involve changing motherboards, there’s no point in even thinking about it. I’m trying to impress the importance of having at least ONE decent computer in the household on my dad, but he doesn’t seem to understand. He offered my brother’s old computer, which pretty much has the same specs as Ye Olde One.

And Boyfriend’s mother and father is here to visit, too. I like them, I really, really do, but there are PEOPLE in my HOME when I want to be alone and sulk about not getting my daily Sims2-fix.

Yargh.

We took SillyDog to a groomer today, to cut his nails. SillyDog was NOT amused. We put a muzzle on him just to be on the safe side, so instead of bite marks I have scratches from his panicked flailing. He snagged my lip, too. When we were done, I was dripping with sweat and bleeding from the mouth. Boyfriend got the back end of SillyDog, so he escaped unscathed. The groomer told us that we should have made SillyDog accept getting his nails clipped earlier. Nah, ya think? It’s not like we wanted to have a 33 kg Cerberus-like dog that doesn’t like to get his nails clipped. If we didn’t really, REALLY had to get help with it, we’d have done it ourselves. We’ve only had him for six months, and that is plenty of time to work on getting a dog to let you cut his nails, if that is the only problem that dog has. We had some more pressing issues with SillyDog when we got him; such as teaching him to walk on a leash, understanding other commands than “shake”, and getting him to communicate in ANY other way than with his teeth. Somehow, clipping his nails was not our highest priority. We made due with filing them instead.

I suppose the groomer would have been more sympathetic if we had explained all this, but with her tone of voice, that didn’t really seem like an option. I’m also intrigued by the notion that we should somehow already have worked on this; as if we could somehow have already done it, just because she told us we should have.

Anyway, we went to a nearby coffee shop afterwards, to reward ourselves for surviving the ordeal. The coffee shop is close to the water, and when SillyDog got tired of sitting still and having coffee like civilized people, we went down to the water to let him bark at the waves. Well, that’s what he usually does, anyway. Up until now, he’s seemed to be afraid, or at least deeply skeptical¬† of water larger than that in his water bowl, but this time he went right in, kicking with his front legs to make it splash, and putting his nose in it and blowing bubbles. We’ll go with him to bathe again, with a longer leash so he can swim some, too.

SillyDog was very, very tired when we got back home. We fed him a bunch of treats to compensate for cutting his nails, and then he fell asleep under the desk, all curled up.