Like Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener, my ancient comp has been increasingly apt to respond to requests that it do its usual tasks with an uninspired "I prefer not to." And like Custer's Indian scouts, it further decided, yesterday morning, that "it is a good day to die." And so it did.
I am at the library tapping this out, and it may be a bit before I can trade enough ambergris or animal pelts to acquire a netbook or something to get back here with. Until then, I am a library rat and will check in as often as I am able.
Shay, back to the stone age
PS--please feel free to check out my "best of" list on the sidebar, if you need a Shay poem and no one is here at the counter.