I've invented a new computer virus defense weapon, patterned after some of my own antibodies, which I retrieved by swabbing a painfully infected ingrown toenail. This weapon is in the form of a concentrated anti-virus ray, which is aimed at the infected computer's hard drive... or at the screen, if you like.
Unfortunately, it's completely ineffective and therefore useless.
So, I was recently forced to take up a vigil at the bedside of my ailing and delirious computer, feeding it little sips of virtual chicken soup and waiting for the fever to break. I had to work my way around a variety of roadblocks that the virus threw in my way. First I had to figure out how to boot up at all, then how to get to safe mode, and then how to boot up under a previous configuration... all so I could get to my anti-virus software.
This helped, but we weren't out of the woods yet. My computer was still sweating and clammy and could take only liquids. The most stubborn virus was playing cat-and-mouse with my anti-virus software, and I had to do a little sleuthing of my own. Going with my gut, I shut down an anonymous "svchost" process that was sucking up 99% percent of my system activity. Things got better. I Googled around and found some more specialized anti-virus software that would hunt down additional "svchost" worms.
Things are running very smoothly, now. As I say, there is a special place in Hell for writers of malicious code.
I have been working for about six years on the same DELL Inspiron B120 laptop, on which I run all my graphics programs (Adobe Creative Suite 2) and do all my blogging. This is something like putting 200,000 miles on a Plymouth Neon... also a current project of mine.
Truthfully, this doggedly persistent laptop reminds me most of a friend's college car, a powder blue Dodge Dart, which he named Lazarus. It was basically a piece of crap the day it was driven new off the lot, but it simply would not stop running and would not die... or rather, would not stay dead. When it broke down, which was often, the problem always turned out to be just fixable. I think he and the car were in a battle of wills, to see which would quit first. The car won. Woody could have driven the thing another jillion miles, I think, but he just got weary of fixing it and bought a shiny new compact.
I've got to nurse this laptop thing along until I get a new Macbook Pro!
Hey, I can dream, can't I?