How can you miss a machine? Just please tell me, how? After all, we are most definitely not in the age of Isaac Asimov’s “I, Robot”.
But I miss my G5. My G5 is in the shop and has been there for two weeks. And most likely will be there for a couple more. I’m typing this on my laptop, who has had an unexpected renaissance as being my main machine — and no doubt having serious doubts about all the usage. But it’s nice to know she (Hmm, has to be she — the G5 is most definitely a He) is taking up the slack with barely a murmur of protest.
In my closet sits a Powerbook 5300CS that operated at a mere 44Mhz . . . or something pathetic like that. Compared to that, this is a supercomputer. I proved that to myself by recording two songs over the weekend — I just didn’t think it could be done with this tiny black box.
And I love her . . . but I miss my G5. Can one be gay about computers? If so, I'm formally outing myself.