So, if you've sent me anything important this week, you may wish to re-send it. Y'know. If you want.
I am way too dependent on the Internet. This whole week has been like the Great LJ Blackout. Me all twitchy in the corner, yelling at random things, swearing at inanimate objects, and obsessively checking every five minutes to see if it was back up.
It was Dad's fault, by the way. Or a combination of Dad and Internic. The host was fine and running, but the domain registration expired on Friday. Dad swears up and down he never got any reminders.
When I asked why in the hell he had them on different providers, he... well, he didn't make a face exactly, because we were on the phone, but I imagine he made a face. I really meant it about making him move to Dreamhost. It's a fuck of a lot cheaper, for one. And he uses his e-mail for actual business-type things! Christ! Dad has this persistent actually-doing-things blind-spot that occasionally requires him being poked repeatedly with a sharp stick.
I would go issue him a swift kick, instead, but he's in Maple Ridge and I don't want to suffer the bus ride. I would much rather go home in half an hour, survey Dreamhost hosting packages (I'm probably moving Fantasi there, as well, soonish), and plot me and Mum's three-day escape to Ireland from London when we're there in August. 177 pounds for the whole jaunt is really not that bad. ^.^
Dad moaned and whined and said "it's all just mounds and graves and half-buried rocks wahwahwah," and talked about visiting docked Royal Navy ships and military museums, but it's the fucking Seat of Kings and I godsdamned studied it and I am going, damnit. I barely restrained myself from reminding him about the great, foodless, NINE. HOURS. AT GETTYSBURG.
I SWEAR TO GOD.
OKAY MAYBE MORE LIKE FIVE BUT IT SEEMED LIKE WAY LONGER.