I knew it was too good to last.
Last night, the Dinosaur breathed its last laborious breath.
If you have no idea what I'm talking about right now, click this link. Then this one. Then this one. After that, click this link. Finally, this link. Now that you've read far more than you came to this site for (and given me a zillion page views, which may or may not make my day [if you really want to make my day, click "follow" in the side bar]), feel free to read on.
The Dinosaur died last night, completely out of the blue. I was in the middle of being completely and utterly productive (aka Facebook) when Opera crashed. I figured it was no big deal, probably just the program's way of pressuring me into doing the update.
A few seconds later, the entire system crashed.
I thought this was something manageable - the Dinosaur has played dead before just to mess with my head - but after about twenty minutes trying to restart the little bugger, I realized that this was a serious problem. This is what would happen: I would plug in the laptop, then I would press the power button. The power light would turn on and the charger light. The hard disk light, however, would flicker for a second, then go out permanently. The computer would not start. The screen would not light up. The hard drive would not make that comforting whirring noise.
The Dinosaur is extinct. My prehistoric, beautiful beast has died, and right now all I'm thinking about is the sheer volume of music I have lost. So much music. (Yeah, I should probably care about the college essays I lost too...... I really should.)
Tomorrow, a few of my brilliant, fabulous, fantastic, amazing, totally-awesome-for-helping-me-out-in-my-time-of-technological-distress friends in the Computer Science club are going to try to salvage my files. I'm praying, but not getting my hopes up.
For now, rest in peace, little buddy. I feel certain that you've gone on to a better place, where you and all your prehistoric technological friends can frolic together and pick on the Zunes. Know that you are in our thoughts and our prayers. I will always miss you, your character, and your obstinance, old friend.