Getting Frogged

I'm starting to get a little frogged. I have a CD with all my photos, backed up when I salvaged the hard drive from my last computer after it puked, AND I CAN'T FIND THE STUPID THING. It seems to have been misplaced in the recent move of my office from the basement to the upstairs, along with a ton of other stuff, presumably in the mountain of shit I still need to move from there to here... in all my spare time. I did happen across one of my daughter's Spongebob CDs that she lost, though, so all is good in Lululand.

I also can't find the photo editing software CD that came with my camera, and I hadn't gotten around to installing on this new computer. A computer, by the way, that I really do not like; but I needed one fast and cheap, so I got this instead of the one I really wanted. I will remedy THAT soon enough, since the "hobby" I've turned to most recently is gutting and rebuilding computers. That's definitely something I would have imagined impossible even a few weeks ago with little to no use of my dominant right arm and, of course, the loss of vision in my right eye. That's all much better now with gobbling megadoses of vitamins 4 times a day. I'm obviously doing well if I can move most of an office full of shit and not feel worried about moving the rest of the mountain, right?...

Amazing how so much of life is a chain reaction...

Anyhow, this weekend I found an HP PC at a garage sale, $15 for the whole shebang. The OS is fried, which is easily solved, but it also doesn't have an ethernet port and needs a NIC installed (I just happen to have one lying around here). I want to install XP, since I used hubby's PC with Vista, and I can unqualifiedly say I DO NOT LIKE IT. But for now I gotta find those CDs. And the USB cable for my camera, which has also disappeared. And the battery charger, since the camera batteries are dead.

This sucks.

Contrary to how it seems, it's not all bad or even mildly irritating around here by any means. In fact, sometimes some pretty funny shit happens. My 3-year-old is learning his letters and he loves looking at books (gets his smarts from me, heh heh). He's rightly understood that the toilet is in the "library." DH walked in on him the other day, sitting there pooping and reading a book. Just now, I was in there peeing and he barged in on me to sign in his oh-so-cute way "poop." The book he had been "reading" before (mine, The Fifth Profession) wasn't there, so he came back a few minutes later with some new reading material. This time, he brought Webster's Dictionary. I about died laughing, thinking about my son shitting to Webster's.