I am not usually a heavy sleeper. Moreover, toddlers are not usually terribly stealthy. But when this kid gets it in his head that he’s gotta come get me, I almost never wake up before he’s 3 inches from my face whispering “Dadaaaaaa…” We’re partly to blame here; we’ve tried to really drive home how important it is to be quiet at night because his sister is sleeping. Most of the time he just gently wakes me up and asks me to come lie down with him for a bit. Sometimes though, he engages in tactical night pranks.
Additionally, and this is probably related, we’re sick. All four of us, and maybe also our dog, got Covid a few weeks ago. We finally started testing negative after 14 days, but we keep getting tagged by other diseases that are having something of a renaissance at daycare. Fortunately, everyone seems to be limping along alright. Boogery and bedraggled, but otherwise intact.
Oh, I killed another laptop. I’m not sure what the technical term for what happened is, but the hand-me-down laptop my father-in-law gave me asked to restart for an update, and then just lost the operating system. Can’t find it; windows left; must’ve had something else it needed to do. The hard drive is shot as near as I can tell. When I load up Windows 10 install media to try and do a repair, it says there just isn’t a hard drive. I was able to get to C:\ using command line, but the only directory left on the whole drive is my Neil Cicierega mashup albums.
Which, obviously, means it is perfect and that the computer is perfect and there’s nothing anyone can or should try to do to improve it. Set us on fire and send us to Valhalla—we’ve peaked.