As I mentioned earlier in the week, my beloved ibook had a nervous breakdown. Husband is currently installing a massive new hard-drive and we’ve all got our fingers crossed. Except Husband, who needed all his digits at the ready because, really, the innards of the ibook were designed by a drunk and deranged troll. Apple does not want you playing around with the guts of your ibook. Watch this if you think I’m kidding:

I’ve borrowed Husband’s old Powerbook in the meantime. You know how aggravated and unnerved and unsettled cats act when you move their litterbox? That’s the way I feel about this Powerbook. It does all of the same things as my ibook. Has all the same programs. Even has a screen that’s 3″ bigger than my ibook. It’s fast and furious. It slices, it dices. But it’s not my ibook.

On the upside, I’m compulsive about backing up my data so I haven’t lost anything. And, if the new drive works, I can finally upgrade to Leopard. Light a candle for us, won’t you?