The “good” computer (we have an iMac and a state-of the art Mac) has been carted off to the Mac shop in Moonee ponds. I fought my way through blue-rinsed ladies in catseye glasses to deliver it to its doctors. Actually, that’s a damn lie; Puckle St is dead groovy these days, I had no idea.
Anyway, so our baby is sick and it’s hard to post because a lot of my drafts and notes are on its hard drive. Normal service will rezoom soon, I hope.
Oh, yes, they’re really giving those evil terrorists what for. We can all feel so much safer.
(Via Body and Soul. One good thing – Jeanne’s back, she’s mad as hell, and she seems to have reconsidered her threat to give up blogging.)
2004 was a shit of a year. As we said goodbye to 2003, and I thought of the terrible early morning screech of RAAF jets over our house in March, the pain in the landscape, the pain in Iraq, I rejoiced. 2004 just had to be better. Yeah. 2004 has been the worst year of my life, bar one.
Warning: More whingeing below the fold.
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