Mourning My Loss

So, this weekend, my wonderful, sweet, lovable son decided to end my computer's life. He's 1. (the son, not the computer.) He loves playing with the cd table, all of the blinking lights, and yes, the power button. He even knows where the sleep button is on my keyboard. Yep, he turns my computer off on me when I'm using it by pulling the keyboard out and pushing the right button. Do you think he's trying to tell me something?

He actually switched off the power bar under my desk (this was new), so I turned it back on. And then there was a bang. A loud bang. And that really gross electrical smell. By this point, I though he was going to succeed in burning the house down, but alas, only the computer got it.

I am so sad. I feel like I'm going through withdrawal (although I've stolen my hubby's laptop to keep up on all of the important stuff, you know, facebook, blogfrog, blogger - I'll pay bills later). Couple that with the Olympics being over tonight, and I think I'm going to have to start wearing a patch. Anyway, I loved my old, slowish, overloaded computer. I spent the better part of 2 hours flipping back and forth from searching for my backup disks, to cringing at the memory of what has been lost and not backed up.

This sucks bad. Well, I always try and look at the bright side of things, and I know my son certainly does, too. In fact, 10 seconds after the fateful blowup, he just looked up at me, smiled, and hopped across the room like a bunny. How can you be mad at that?