Bitching

A 2-post collection

Embuggerances

I can't do half of the stuff I need to do, at least before noon-ish, because this harness necessitates staying away from large amounts of water, transmitting equipment, microwaves, or my induction cooktop.

Further bad news - even though my Scooba floor-mopping robot has been restored to the point where it can take a charge, it won't go anywhere or clean any floors because it keeps thinking that it's clean water tank is empty. Also, it doesn't seem to be able to turn its little brush. Poor thing.

And since they made Scooba's for exactly one year back in the aughties, I doubt that there's anyone who could repair it. And exactly zero people to replace it. And I really wanted that robot back in working order. Sigh.

My cat is not a happy camper. I get the feeling that she puts up with a great deal, these days. I hate the very concept of saying 'goodbye'. Especially since we're not getting any more pets.

Beloved's reasoning - nobody wants to deal with the gross parts.

I can understand that logic. Most of the time, I was the only person who would. And when I fell over sick, everyone else just let the gross parts stay exactly where they were and leave it all for when I felt better. Thanks, kids. Thanks, Beloved. Now I'll never have another animal companion to keep the days from being so lonely.

Getting one's heart monitored for 24 hours is a pain in the arse. Patches of my chest are itchy from the contacts. I have to jot down when I notice a symptom. And I can't do 90% of my everyday things, let alone any of the new stuff.

I'll get straight onto it in the afternoon. Promise.

Meanwhile, elementary research shows that floor-cleaning robots are (a) not sold in any actual shop where you can look at them (b) not nearly as expensive sexy as your average Roomba, and (c) not always available in my fair country. Thanks, commerce. Way to enforce that self-fulfilling prophecy there. "Aw nobody wants them so we never ordered them." Grrrr...

If I had the time to waste and the money to spend on it, I would open a chain of shops that sold EVERYTHING that nobody apparently wants.

Reasons why I'm bitching a lot about my dying Mac

Hubby pointed out to me that I talk about my dying mac a LOT. As in, almost every time I speak to him, a lot.

I didn’t mean to pressure him. I just really, really hate not having a mac.

And here’s a few reasons why:

1) All my stuff was on there. Well, almost all of it. I was still trying to figure out how to get all my photos off my iPhone and onto the mac[

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