I really hate computers. Really. Hate. Them. Especially when the only one you've got is infected with a nasty virus that causes your husband to turn all sorts of red and mutter under his breath words you didn't think he actually knew.
It's been a fun couple of days. I didn't realize how addicted I was to the internet until it was taken away from me. By day two, you would have thought my best buddy had died. In a sense, he had. Mr. Internet has kept me sane and in touch with several sane people for several years now (I'm going out on a limb here thinking you all are sane, right?). The pain I felt when I passed by the dark screen of the monitor was real and heartwrenching. Even Golden Girl's reruns couldn't bring me out of my funk. I was forced to clean the house, oh the horror.
But, last night, after many hours of cursing and many shades of red later, my hero, that man I love, fixed it. He tracked that virus down and sent it to virus heaven...er, hell. I knew I was doing right when I said "I do." Now, things will finally get back to normal around here. You know, clothes piled up everywhere, dishes posing as Petri dishes in the kitchen and baby toys covering every space of the carpet, which will need vacuuming. Home, sweet home.