Jealousy

That is the only way I can account for the fact that, precisely two days after the introduction of a newer and faster computer into the house, the benighted machine on which I am typing this entry saw fit to play the giddy goat and crash repeatedly. I mean, it's only natural. I remember, when I was Solomon's third favourite concubine-- However. I have, at great personal inconvenience, spent half the night obtaining and installing new drivers for the thing--and one cannot but wonder why it needs so many drivers when it has no wheels--and we shall see what happens. Probably a trunnion will fall off or something. Such is my lot in life. Stainless myself and void of earthly desires, I devote the exercise of my vital powers to the enrichment of others, and what is my guerdon? Mockery. Scorn and defiance, slight regard, contempt, as the B-Bard so tellingly put it. But I bear it--you will note--with head unbowed, shoulders free of stoop, and the slight smile playing about the lips. This pose should be sketched as soon as possible for my statue in the Abbey. No larger than life-size, please. After all, we want to be able to get the thing through the doors.

I shall now sally forth to deposit some cardboard and plastic where those souls who covet such things may seize upon them and bear them away for further use. Messages may be left with the cat.