They left me. In the house. Alone.
Well, not quite. My wife’s last act before she left was to spill a pot of hot coffee all over my MacBook Pro.
Now of course had I been home, I would quickly yanked the power, pulled the battery, and flushed with clean water (you’d be surprised, when they later dry they usually boot). But it was left to fuse out — and is now suitably fubar’d.
Now I know, this is our fault. MacBooks — or any laptop for that matter — don’t get on famously with scalding black coffee. But my other tech nightmare, which has really been the cherry on my house-to-myself-turd-pie, is that today my XBOX 360 died. 3 Red rings of death.
God only knows how long those corner-cutting fuckers at Microsoft will take to repair their poorly manufactured piece of junk.
Likewise I’ll have to wait weeks for the insurance peeps to assess my MacBook and decide if it can be repaired or whether they’ll pay for a new one. I just know they’ll try and fob me off with an entry level MBP – just because the CPU is similar to my 1-year old machine. Regardless of the fact that mine had 512mb Gfx and 6MB L2 cache – only comparable with the top-line model. I paid just over £1,700 for my machine, almost exactly the same as the top new model.
I actually prefer the older form factor too. Whatever, I have all my data backed up. I just wish the tech-gods hadn’t chosen this week to fuck me over.