Day seven of furlough. I rose at 0630 to the faint hum of rebellion. Today’s mission: update Curly and Moe to Windows 11. Moe complied immediately — cooperative, efficient, the model citizen of the digital republic. Curly, however, was defiant. Midway through installation, he froze, declared “update failed,” and reverted to his old ways. I have seen mutinies before, but never from a machine with this much smug confidence.
Breakfast was a Cinnamon & Brown Sugar Instant Oatmeal encore. Tradition breeds stability. The oats did not resist.
Remington conducted her morning patrol and reported no incursions, though she suspects the neighbor’s squirrel is engaged in cyber-espionage. Mittens provided commentary from the windowsill, mocking my technical failures while pretending to monitor the bird situation. Tabby filed her daily report from the kitchen, breaking news: the treat jar was empty. Demands for reparations are pending.
I spent the afternoon negotiating with Curly. We reached a ceasefire at 4 PM — he remains on Windows 10, claiming “compatibility concerns.” I suspect ideological differences. Moe, meanwhile, gloats with shiny new widgets and an inflated sense of superiority.
Morale check: stable but wary. The Living Room Republic is divided — the pro-11 reformists versus the old-guard loyalists. I fear this schism could deepen if the update server continues to push propaganda. Remington has increased patrol frequency.
Shutdown still ongoing. Congress remains silent. Curly remains stubborn.