I've been fighting an uphill battle with my own laptop, but have overwhelmingly tried to give it the benefit of the doubt. Oh, your battery is no longer capible of holding a charge? No problem, I'll just keep you plugged in on a 20 ft. extension cord, carrying you throughout the house on a perilously unstable teather. (Seriously, if I had a dollar for every time the power cord was accidentally unplugged from the laptop, wiping away the 50 simultaneous Internet Explorer tabs I had opened, I could probably buy myself a new Speedy 35).
Or, Dear Laptop, how about how you drop my wireless signal every 10 minutes, despite the fact that our router is seriously 8 feet away from you? If you think that *all* the work the Mr. and I put in to thinking of a super-awesome wireless signal name (also known as The Toughest Household Decision We've Ever Had To Make Thus Far As A Married Couple) just for you to laugh in its face and drop-kick it 6 times an hour, you have another thing coming. But I caressed you, I coddled you, I compensated for your wireless connection issues until my fingers almost bled from Right-click ->Repair -> Refresh.
Then, and early Christmas miracle arrived- Mr. and Mrs. Claus (aka Mama and Papa Martini) broke the news yesterday afternoon that we'd be getting new laptops for Christmas.
I was so excited, my head almost exploded into little pieces of candy and confetti. For serious.
High off the prospect of new technology, I turned on the Laptop of Doom last night to write the "I'm Back!" blog post, and then to begin researching a replacement for my technological nemesis.
And this is what I was greeted with:
Well played, Laptop. Well played.