SNIFFLE . . .
(Been without Bob for far too long now. It's all for the best -- he's getting new guts and new brains, which will simply make him live longer, and that's all I want, because he's just the best little PowerBook G4 ever made, he really is. And I've been managing -- scrounging about and appealing to the mercy of my parents and Mabel for the use of their computers. PCs all, but they suit my needs for now. I understand the reason for Bob's absence, though. God's been telling me a bunch of stuff, including "stop browing the sale pages of Jcrew.com -- the merchandise is the same and you STILL can't afford any of it" and "I refuse to let you send that nasty email you wanted to send, because it won't do any good and no, you won't feel any better after you send it." See, anyone who says that God isn't real or that He's silent ... you've got to be in my shoes, because He seems to bonk me over the head loud and clear all the time with His little messages. Anyhow. My parents are kicking me out of their house, if you can believe it. Computerless again, I am. Bob, I miss you. I love you. I hope they're taking gooooood care of you in Olathe, Kansas. Thank you, MacResQ, for all your hard work. Take good care of Bob. He's my first son.)
