helpless.

I just went through a thousand and one deaths - I had FIVE simultaneous Blue Screens Of Death, and I thought that was the pitiful end of BOB (the christened name of my ancient dinosaur).

But it's up and running for now! Oh, I promise not to be an unreasonable tyrant, and I will let BOB sleep at least once a week in future.

It's terrifying to be that dependent on an object, or the internet for that matter. Deprived of access to them both for an hour, I was going ballistic and delirious with fear in my little room, and chowing down on kitkat at 547 in the morning in a bid to prevent myself from wearing my teeth down in anguish.

I should go to bed, it's 0639, but I'm procrastinating because I don't really want to turn off my laptop. (Poor BOB!) I'm actually getting a bit agitated from the mere thought of it.

You know, I think I have a problem here. (No shit, Sherlock!)

I wonder if there's a rehab centre for internet junkies? Not that I want to put myself through all that exquisite torment, but it'd be nice to know. Just in case.