ah. today, i think my laptop died. before you start thinking 'oh, she's coping well with that knowledge', think again - i'm currently in voluntary denial - i don't even want to think about what i've potentially lost. i can't bear to thnk about it. i'm a little numb as i sit here at the upstairs crap-box computer, and i just want to crawl into bed and sleep for a while. shutdown, so to speak. switch to safe mode. my brain-saver has kicked in and is blocking all pain receptors and logical thought sequences in order to safeguard against spontaneous self-destruction. downstairs, lying on the table next to the carcass of my laptop, are my old usb flash disk (it now rattles when you shake it) and my new usb flash disk (it is shiny and purple but i'm still a little wary of it - i have only saved my novel onto it, and all working folders realted to the novel. i'm not sure i trust it yet). i am told that the words 'unmountable boot volume' translate to 'it can't find its hard disk', and i understand enough about these things to know that a hard disk is pretty much the guts of it. but why can't it find its hard disk? as far as i know, it would be in the same place it was in yesterday. i am currently reading helen garner's new book 'joe cinque's consolation', and i think my current state of numb incredulity at my computer woes, a situation that would normally drive me to banshee-grade wailing, has been instilled by the details of the story i am reading. i am not even half way through the book, and already my heart is crying for joe cinque's family. is this right? is this an honourable way to feel? i will re-evaluate once i have finished the book. in the meantime, i will murmur sweet nothings to my thinkpad in the hope that the strength of my love will bring it back from the brink. wish me luck.