FML

My computer died this morning. I turned it on to look up directions for the government office I had to go to, and it turned itself on and has been lifeless ever since. I've sort of seen this coming: it went on the fritz a bit this winter, and has been making funny noises and smells for the last few weeks. (Bad smells coming from your laptop seem like a pretty obvious sign something is wrong.)


Fortunately one of the most practical going away presents I got before I left Kingston was a tiny little external hard drive that's compact and shiny and I kind of love it. And last week I finally got around to backing up all my pictures and music, so there's no Weeping Tile or "pictures of me and Meg at the Toucan" crisis. I've still got all my draft copies of my terrible first year essays.


What I don't have is easy access to emails about such inconsequential things as upcoming job interviews, silly government hoops I have to jump through or Google Maps. I thought I'd solved all my problems with the brilliant idea of googling "internet cafe +montmartre." Oh. Right.


This morning, to find out where I was going, I actually had to look something up in a book. Indexes (indices?) are Google Unplugged.

On the other hand, things that don't suck:

1. When I finally did find the government office I needed (without Google, even) I was the only person in line, so I got in and out and I'm proud to report I am now in France legally. I've been putting this off for ages because I hate doing official stuff in France, and everytime I've tried, I get sent to a different building across town. Today I finally found the right one and had all the right papers, and even managed to show up during the 2 hour window when it's open. (Seriously. 2 hours a day.)
2. A friend from Queen's is in town for a few days, and he told me last night that Paris feels like a cooler Montreal. Which killed me with it's obviousness/aptness. Also he speaks English and has good Pat stories, so it's an even better slice of Kingston than the book of second wave mid '80s Bronwen Wallace essays I've been carrying around.