Out of Sorts

Every once in a while, something happens that reminds me what creatures of habit we all are.

I'm at work on Wednesday night, putting in yet another day of overtime. I sit down at my desk and turn my computer on... and wait. I get the Windows screen and ait to log into the network at work, but nothing happens. It just hangs there for a few minutes.

Then I get a blue screen.

'Disk Write Error.'

I call tech support, then reboot and the computer starts ScanDisk. Twenty minutes pass, and I call tech support AGAIN while ScanDisk starts doing the surface scan. Someone calls back about five minutes later. "I think it's toast, but I'll look at it."

Well. Thanks for THAT.

So I head over to the other side of our little hub where Charles sits. The computer over there has one of the new flat-screen monitors. Charles doesn't use a mousepad and I'm right in front of my editor's desk.

I was 'off' all night. And a little of that might have been fatigue, as the work is tedious enough five nights a week, let alone six, but it was mostly because I wasn't sitting where I normally do. Everything looked different; nothing was in the right place, and you can't move anything because you don't want to disturb the other guy's routine and make him feel as awkward and discombobulated as you're feeling in that unfamiliar space. Fortunately, I didn't screw anything up, though I had a ready-made excuse if I had.

The hard drive was toast. They said they were going to replace it. I went back to work last night and I'm still not sure if they have.