That’s right. Both my laptops conked out most mysteriously within ten minutes of each other, reducing me to lugging the heavy, useless lumps of plastic and metal under the sun all afternoon, only to be told by service centre folks that nothing can be done about them for a month at least, so would madam please lug them right back home, thank you?
What with impending deadlines, I then did what sensible opportunists would do: I hopped to my buddy K’s house, and commandeered her laptop to work. Only, of course, I went on Youtube instead, and given my current Torchwood haze, looked up John Barrowman speaking in his lovely Scottish accent. Have you heard him switch right in the middle of a sentence? Damn, he’s good.
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