There are all these programs I use without really thinking about it, on a day to day basis, and it's really odd not having them there. Prosthetic foreheads, and sometimes it's my real head that I touch by accident.
Thalia's closer to set up, now. My laundry's done. I have yet to migrate the important files; I have yet to install some of the key things; I have yet to explore my directory tree. I have my colors on the system, and have gotten rid of the godsawful XP theme; I like square corners on things. Square corners rest my eyes, where curves lead it around in unfortunate circles, dizzying.
I hope to see my bondmates soon, and show off my new treasure, let them log in as themselves, let life do its little works. I had too much coffee at the writing group dinner; this shows in my late night. Isolation comes standard with this set. How many computers does one woman need? The reading I did last week showed that if I got this pretty box, I'd become more isolated from my roommates.
This screen is large by my late standards. I like it. I like not having to fish around on a tiny screen. I like having room to shuffle things around.
I'm procrastinating doing what I know needs to be done -- move everything in, shuffle folders again, pretend that this is the last computer I'll need to move into. I know I hate moving each time. I know I have my senior bondmate's sympathies, and his kicks in the arse. I'm going to move all my music on here. I have a vast CD library, vast for someone of my habits, and I'll rip it all to my own computer so I can hear it at will. I like this machine already, and once I have it set up as I desire, it won't be so hard to move into my eventual desktop. If I continue this current scheme of naming, if my whimsy hasn't shifted, the desktop will be named Mnemosyne. Yo' momma.
I'm even getting some mending done. pyrogenic, moonberryq, remember that black bag I carried around at CTY, the one that always had everything in it? I got that from Quilting Aunt. I still have it, and it's just the right size to hold a laptop that doesn't have to be coddled too much, one that goes inside a backpack's padded bit. It holds books and all, and it's a good library bag.
The music moving is proceeding apace. So many CDs to rip. So many things to listen to and decide if they deserve to remain on my hard drive for the moment.
I look at my room from a different perspective, when I'm sitting in a different place, at a different computer.
This computer's power connection has gone sane. It's a standard States DC plug now, not some Dell-specific bullshit. This makes me happy. I'd be able to get a generic replacement.
I know I'm going through a hermit-phase. I am weirded-out to be on the short-list from anyone's mental Rolodex, even if it is a bondmate's.
Everyone is now able to add comments to their user pictures. W00t, verily.