Twenty-four hours later...

Okay, so that was fun. Retrospectively. Yup.

Anyway: this here, where I am speaking from? Is an apparently working solid iteration of the latest release of Ubuntu. And I have ported over my mail files from the previous unworking unsolid iteration of same, and I seem to have access to everything else over there, so yay.

A bolder wiser smarter man than I would probably make secure copies of everything, then wipe everything on this computer and start again from scratch, but hey. I am the definition of laissez-faire, and then panic. As you probably know by now. I never did stitch in time, which is why I'm dressed up to the nines.

Anyway: that has been an intensely computery twenty-four hours, including most of the hours from 4am lying wide awake and staring at the ceiling in a stressy kind of way; so now I am going to try to remember I'm a fiction writer, and (obviously) go out for a walk. In the bright sunny sun.

Foiled by grammar

We are heading off shortly, to the house of two friends. I wanted to say that shorter, more colloquially, the way a real person would - but I can't say a friend's house, because not true. I can't say a friends' house, because weird. A house of friends? Also weird. I don't want to use their names, because privacy. Help! What would real people do?

Anyway: watch movie, drink wine. Just the thing, after a day of stress and satisfaction and frustration and so forth. (I have ported over my Firefox bookmarks, yay, including a kitchenton of recipes; and I have located and downloaded and unzipped and installed a printer-driver that works, double-yay; and I have discovered that my preferred word processing package does not work, because of broken dependencies, triple-boo. I have emailed Germany, to ask for a fix. Sometimes their instructions come in German, whoopee.)