One thing that DID get done on this weekend was fixing Daughter #1's computer ... Daughter #2 had decided a number of months ago that if one CD was good in the drive, then 3 CDs would even be better ... needless to say, much unpleasant noise followed, and I had to rip the front of fhte drive to extract the drawer with the 3 discs. It has been sitting there waiting for me to swap in a new drive since. Got that done yesterday morning. Dauther #1 did opine that my various muttered suicidal wishes ("oh, good, maybe I'll electrocute myself") were much against their preference. Nice to know that at least TWO people (and I aint' one of them!) think I'm better off alive! Which, of course, brings us to yet another lovely poem ...
SURVIVAL NONE EXPECT
the hooks impale, the chains snap taut, and acceleration drags us behind; we are locked now into the insane rush, hurtling forward without design
our intents mean nothing here, once opted for the ride decides what turns to make, what hills to climb, what deep abysses to pull us through
still we strive for some control, like prisoners we can but rearrange the minor details, this to here and that to there within our cage
and yet we're left with broken things in twisted time, too many enemies to expect survival, too alien to fit anywhere in this, their world
all our dreams go sour here; our base, our stance is mocked by a hostile race, a killing world, a poisoned zone which seeks our death
