The computer has returned from hospital. Count your blessings.
Today is the first anniversary of my home in England being burnt down. I'll spare you the details, since I've mentioned it in previous posts, but it all went up in 15-20 minutes except for me, my dog and my U.S. passport(!). I built the home with my then S.O., Satan. Apparantly, I must've been too happy, I thought after the shock started to wear off. That's why the Goddess let my little home and manuscript and puppy photos and etc burn. It's definately something I tend to ask Her after I die. She'll probably blame Her guard dog. She might also blame Peter Gabriel, the guy who wrote the song with the same title as this post. I listened to the song too much, I unconsciously willed it into being. Man, life doesn't get much weirder when it mirrors a PG song.
My apologies for the sombre not of this post. Here's a couple of light-hearted links about fire:
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