My computer count went up by one this morning when Liza handed me down a 12" PowerBook G4 she no longer needs. All I need to do is up the RAM and buy a new battery to take one more baby step into the 21st Century, many steps behind those whose iPhones have replaced everything. ( I do have a laptop, but it's a truly ancient iBook running System 9 that I would never dream of trying to get online with. In my defense, I did buy a TracFone in December). My desktop in New York is a clunky old 15" eMac, and as I'm going to be here for four months, I'd decided to ship the beautiful 20 inch iMac I have in Silver, which makes the eMac look like the iBook.
As of this morning, after a week, it still hadn't arrived, and tracking it online showed it was delivered and signed for on Friday. I'd had it sent to my landlord's storefront office in case I wasn't at home when it came (no doorman in this building, mate), so went down there to see if they had it. Nothing, no one knew anything about it, what size box was it in, dunno, not me, had it gone to the second floor office by mistake? Checked second floor office, nothing, not here, go back down and ask again.
Back upstairs to 3S, print out the signature, get just a little concerned that it seems to read Teresemaniac, go back down to storefront, wave piece of paper around, man who formerly knew nothing about it says "That's my signature", goes straight to the box I'd been telling him was probably the size of the box it came in and there's the iMac. Bottom of totem pole worker assigned to carry box up two flights for me, everybody happy. Venus never does have very much to do with love for me.
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