fine whine

At just about midnight this morning my hard drive died. I was using the computer at the time, and it suddenly spun to life and started making some forlorn clicking noises. Windows shut down and when it restarted my drive wasn't recognized. You see, I need to use two hard drives to run Windows: my 20 gigabyte drive, partitioned into five or six virtual drives, filled with pictures, music, and games, and the one gig dinosaur that boots Windows because it can't recognize the bigger drive.

I'm sure that if I monkeyed with it enough, I could've gotten down to one drive, but now that is a purely hypothetical exercise. It's all gone, now, and I'm going to have to find somebody to pay to get my stuff back. I've been bad about backing stuff up, since I figured that since I bought this hard drive new it wouldn't give me a problem after a mere five years.

This is, of course, not the first drive I've lost. It's not even the fifth. It is, however, the first one that I bought new, and moreover the first one I had that was manufactured after 1997.

I've got hundred megabyte hard drives from 1992 that still work, dammit.

So I'm a fool for not making backups, and a sad fool at that. To think just a couple days ago I was so happy to be in Chicago with my friends, and now I have this instead. I want to go back; I want to go to bed and to have this all be okay in the morning.