Not unlike the early 1990s

So yesterday, as we were standing in our new house trying to decide if we're the kind of assholes who will ask that a whole granite countertop be taken out because the sink (not the one we ordered anyway) was installed one inch off-center, Todd mentions to me, all offhand-like, "Oh, and did I tell you that this morning the computer was dead?"

Turns out, we ARE that kind of asshole, and really, the off-center thing is crazy-making, I mean, for what we're paying it should be right and, wait...WHAT????

He's right. Our computer won't boot. We haven't had time to screw around with it yet, so the extent of the not-workingness has yet to be determined, but for the moment, no home computer. And of course, when he said that, I immediately shit a brick, because MY PRESHUSS PICTURES OH NOES.

Fortunately, about a month ago I finally got off my ass and set up an automatic backup to a little Seagate drive. Also, when the computer died, it was in the middle of doing the initial backup to Carbonite. I don't know how much made it there, but presumably a fair amount. I have everything that's truly important to me, and am now a devout member of the cult of BACK YOUR SHIT UP, PEOPLE.

But the truly inconvenient aspect of this falls back to my new company's draconian web policy. Here at the office, I can't see Flickr, Facebook, Shutterfly, or any blogs outside of Google Reader. I can see the text on most of ScienceBlogs, NPR.org, and my site, but no pictures or video. I was relying on our home computer for photo editing and to stay in touch on the weekends (also for to watch funny videos of cats falling off of things). If we can't get it working, well, at some point my camera is going to fill up and people will start to think I'm dead.

Also, I will be unable to force you to look at pictures of my child. I will have to buy a wallet and fill it with photos to wave under the noses of strangers in line at the grocery store, while desperately hissing "Isn't he the cutest baby ever? ISN'T HE? SAY HE'S THE CUTEST BABY EVER." And they'll be trying to avoid my fevered, maniacal gaze, looking around desperately for someone to engage them in a conversation about anything - politics, religion, hemorrhoids, ANYTHING - just to avoid the crazy lady with the baby pictures. Awkward.

So here's hoping it's a minor hiccup and doesn't require, I don't know, a new warp drive or extensive modifications to the bioneural gelpack or an entirely new computer. Until that determination is made, I'll just hang out here in the Dark Ages. No, it's cool, we have books and, you know, the Plague and stuff.