Late Again

Though the room is quite chilly, it's been too warm for poor Sluggo tonight. He's taken several sudden naps, and now he refuses to find the LJ client, so I must post from the web update page. What an annoying little bugger he is. I'm now getting blue screens with errors reported from something called VxD voltrack, which I am assuming (assuming, since I know that even if I looked it up at Microsoft's knowledge base, I wouldn't understand 98% of the information there) has something to do with the power supply. Sluggo's power supply, by the way, is a small, fan-free black box with the name KINPO on it, and a bunch of numbers an electrician would understand. It looks to have been made about 1950. Sluggo has time-travelled to get it, I'm sure, just so he can have one more thing with which to piss me off.

The sky is already turning a lovely cerulean, with a blush of pink above the mountains. The first crow of the day just cawed, and the bare branches, now etched black against the brightening sky, will soon be filled with other birds, singing brightly to keep me awake. I've yet again failed in my goal of getting to sleep before dawn. Thanks, Sluggo. Ah, well. Tomorrow Today is another day.

After

As the government went to such expense to throw a big party, even including a parade, in honor of my birthday, I suppose it's churlish of me to point out that they held it a day late. I'm also not too pleased with their choice of a Grand Marshall for the parade. I mean, I didn't even vote for the guy. But I suppose David Letterman wasn't available. He probably didn't want to miss two shows in a row. I'm sure that Jimmy Kimmel would have been glad to do it, though. If he had done it, I might even have watched the speech on television. Still, it's the thought that counts, so, thanks for the party. Sorry I couldn't be there. I was busy trying to balance my mom's checkbook for her.

Today was so mild that all the birds were out, and all the neighborhood cats came out to chase them. The harsh weather having moved east, Sluggo has been disgruntled. He hates to see me comfortable, so he shows me his blue screen every few minutes. That he now freaks out when the room temperature gets to no more than sixty degrees does not bode well for his survival. It means that he will have to hibernate for as much as eight months a year. I had hoped to replace him before last summer. This year, I think that I have no other options. He must go. But what to buy? And where? There's the problem. Oh, I do not like decisions, especially when I'll probably be stuck with the results for four years. Heh. Four years. Not for this incompetent slug, anyway.