Death Needs A New Hobby

Today's post was going to cover my trip over the River Styx into Utah and back. About the ten horrific minutes we spent in the freezer antechamber to ID my grandmother's remains. Of making my father happy by breaking bread with his brother at lunch yesterday, when all I really wanted to do was break his teeth. Of the passenger next to me on my flight home who was a cadaver dog handler and trainer.

No dice.

My laptop died about an hour ago. It had been acting weird all day, and my afternoon was therefore spent running anti-virus and malware programs. It found a few things, but even as I quarantined the situation only continued to deteriorate.

Upon reboot, I got the message that my config files were gone. No config files, no Windows. Long story short, my fabulous neighbor has my laptop and is going to see what he can do. A little computer CPR, if you will. The initial messages, besides the config files being gone are that there are no hard drives to recognize. Fuck, fuck and double fuck.

So my dad is still in Utah dealing with his brother and the clusterfuck he created. My husband didn't make it home until 7.30pm tonight, LittleBird had two shots at the doctor this morning and we are fighting to keep my lifeline laptop out of Death's greedy hands.

Please, Thanatos, find a new hobby. Move on. I have neither obulus nor danake to give. Charon is tired of seeing me. My pockets are empty.