In Which I Complain

It is one in the morning. I am using my parents' computer. I have been running tests on mine all evening, trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with it. It keeps crashing, and the tests are telling me there's something wrong with the memory, but that's not helpful. I called tech support yesterday, and they told me to run more tests. I think I've run damn near every test I can on the drivers/diagnostics CD, the system restore/repair CD, and the startup repair menu thing. The most helpful thing I've been told is to call tech support. My computer's still under warranty (because it's only nine bloody months old!), but I leave for England a week from tomorrow, so I don't exactly want to be sending it out for repairs right now. Using my parents' computer involved sitting in an unpleasant chair that forces me to be abnormally far away from the monitor. It also forces me to be at a desk, as opposed to being able to curl up on the couch or in bed, like my laptop has allowed me to become accustomed to. When I decided to write this blog post, I was sitting in said unpleasant chair, turning semi-circles back and forth, listening to the way the noises of the hard drive tower changed as I spun. It was decidedly less pleasant than being in bed doing something fun with my laptop...

Also, I am sick with a nasty cold. Today is day seven. The nasal congestion is more or less the same as it started out, but the dry cough is getting worse. I'm considering seeing a doctor tomorrow to make sure that it hasn't morphed into something worse. The entire upper half of my body hurts from coughing. I'm waiting for the cold medicine I took a minute ago to kick in before I go to bed, because attempting to lay down and breath calmly is a considerable challenge without medication right now. I'm probably keeping my parents awake with my coughing--I have been for the past couple of nights. I've been scratching my throat and chest so much that the skin is getting irritated. Peter wondered if the scratching actually helped, since the itch is on the inside, but it does, at least a little. I'm not entirely certain how it does, though.

Speaking of Peter, he leaves the day after tomorrow. Chris leaves tomorrow. I leave a week from tomorrow, but I already mentioned that. And now I'm giving up and going to bed, regardless of how I'm breathing.