Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Maybe I'll find a nice documentary on Netflix to watch.

The laptop has been a good and true friend. The screen now comes on in one set of colors and then blinks to my color settings a couple of seconds later. That's not a good sign. Lucky I've got the back-up screen. But further, it keeps crashing. Doc actually played his game for who knows how many hours this morning with Photoshop and Windows Media Player open. Yeah, so as soon as I took control of it when I woke up from my nap, it had an ugly crash dump. Blue screen of nonsense and everything. I may have to acquiesce to Doc and reformat it. I'm really not enthused about the 18 hours of reloading the software, though. Some pirated, and has to be installed in a certain order to keep the software from "calling home". The real hassle is the legal stuff. Each with its own CD and passkey that take forever to run. The pirated stuff lives on a USB drive, it's a snap. The legal, not so much. 7 of the hours are taken up by the restoration CDs. See, we can't just reload Windows 7 on this, no, it was built in to the restoration CDs, so we have to restore the whole thing to factory and start from scratch.

But I need it to keep working. If he works a solid month, no days out, he can buy a new laptop, which he can defile with whatever browser and game he wants. I will continue to nurse this one. It's his fucking game that has wrought havoc on this machine. And he bitches about the machine. Do you see me in a strangling position?

He stayed home half the night last night. He slept the whole time. I missed Rachel Maddow, and Mr. Robot. He woke up at 11, grumpy and growling, so I took my meds and lay down. When I woke up at 12:30am, he was gone. I had a cigarette and went back to bed until 5 this morning. He seemed cheery this moring. Until I was catching him up on a news story and he cut me off, again, and told me I was being to emphatic, again, and told me to calm it down or stop talking, again. So I stopped talking, went outside and had a cigarette and lay back down for my nap. When I woke up to some shit he had on TV (note: he can watch whatever he wants at whatever volume he wants while I am asleep; but I am to keep the TV off while he sleeps) and got up to smoke a cigarette and have some Gatorade. He didn't say a word to me. Then I slept until 3. When I got up, he was asleep. Only two more hours until the real fun starts! Did I mention that I think I'm building up a nice case of PTSD from this vicious cycle? I start shaking at about 5. I have nightmares about waking up too late to wake him up on time and him freaking out on me. It's really suck.

At least tonight he will be gone the whole night. I really do want to try to record tonight.

Oh, speaking of, does anyone know where on the web (google has failed me, but I know you guys. *looks at Liliane*) I could hear a non-computerized voice say the word "angel" in Swedish? At the end of one of my new pieces, I want to add "Good night my angel" in Swedish. My Papa used to say it to me all the time. As a kid I could say it, I could say a lot of things. But now I can't remember the proper pronunciation of angel. And the google translate computer voice repeating it just confuses me more. Swedish is like a cross between German, Dutch and Finnish. I can only "do" one of those accents. Dutch and Finnish I'm not familiar with enough to emulate and adapt the accent to the words I need to apply them to.

In other news, Doc is stirring and making grumpy noises, so I am obviously typing too loud. Why don't I just move to a different room? Pure laziness. I would need to take the USB hub with me and all the cords attached to it and hook them up in my room and it's just such a hassle. And I don't have pillows in my room anymore (Bedbug invasion of 2012) so there is no place to do anything but lay down. He needs to go to his bedroom. He is the one putting all these rules down on the other person living in the living room. If I was doing the same, you can be sure he would demand that I move back to my room, post haste.

Maybe I'll find a nice documentary on Netflix to watch.

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