The End of the End

The Beginning of the End, predictably enough, did not end, due to me being exceptionally lazy and distractable. The End of the End should be written, but it seems to me fitting that it is as abrupt as the event it describes.

My laptop broke. After the del key fell of the power cable started to look a bit dodgy. Then wire started poking out from under the cable covering bit. Then it stopped working. Then I wiggled it. Then that stopped working. Then I attached tape-plaster stuff, then a cable tie, and then I wiggled it some more. And then the end was nigh, because the above mentioned methods ceased to be effective.

So, really, it was a rather drawn out process and a situation that developed over a matter of weeks, if not months. Calling a short entry fitting is a product of me maintaining my comfortable state of lazy arse. But this is all I'm writing, because, er, it was an incredibly emotional sundering of a girl and her lifeline to fake realities...

(Translate: I'm still a lazy arse.)

...and I do not wish to dwell on the last 50 minutes I spent typing before the battery went dead.

(Translate: My hands are cold and I still need to shower before work. Which I will be late for. Again.)

My laptop lies dusty underneath my bed. Occasionally I talk to it in my sleep. We have fulfilling conversations on the matter of how to rescue Princess Leia from Lord Sauron, and exactly how much pizza will be required to distract the orcs. How much longer we'll have to wait until Flash Gordon shows up.

I type on somebody else's laptop, listening to somebody else's music, eating somebody else's chocolate. I'm supposed to be buying myself a new laptop, but I keep running scared.