by MustBTVDay eight of furlough. I woke at 0545, not because of discipline or duty, but because I forgot to disable my weekday alarm — the one meant for a job I currently can’t go to. Nothing like being jolted awake to fulfill responsibilities that don’t currently exist. I laid there for a moment, contemplating the irony, then accepted my fate: I was up.
Still, the early start gave me time to reflect on yesterday’s marathon battle with Curly. Six hours of updates, restarts, and pure slapstick later, victory was finally achieved — though not without a few digital eye pokes. At one point, Moe (ever the overachiever) booted up flawlessly, looked over, and metaphorically slapped Curly upside the monitor with a “Why, I oughta!” Curly responded by freezing mid-install, rebooting twice, and yelling “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!” through a chorus of error codes.
Eventually, after enough BIOS resets, manual updates, and caffeine-fueled button mashing, I jabbed the right combination — a digital poke in both eyes — and the stubborn machine finally caved. The Three Stooges theme might as well have been playing in the background as Curly begrudgingly joined Moe on Windows 11. It wasn’t tech support; it was a vaudeville act.
Breakfast was skipped in favor of coffee — the lifeblood of both man and machine. Both PCs now hum in smug unison, though I’m not convinced Curly won’t revert out of spite. Remington’s been tasked with network security, though her current threat detection method mostly involves staring at the router until it blinks.
Today brought my follow-up doctor’s appointment. Healing continues steadily, though there’s a faint ache in my abdomen — a small reminder that recovery, like Windows updates, comes in waves and usually right when you think you’re done.
After that, I dropped the truck off for maintenance. Watching it roll away felt oddly symbolic — me, the truck, and Curly all getting tune-ups at once. The mechanic promised it’d be back by tomorrow, but I detected the same kind of optimism I hear from tech support when they say, “Try restarting it.”
Mittens remained aloof all day, staring out the window like he’s waiting for the next act in this tragicomedy. Tabby, ever the journalist, reported the treat jar scandal remains unresolved. Remington maintained order, chasing off a rogue leaf from the porch and later falling asleep mid-patrol.
Morale check: cautiously optimistic. Curly’s rebellion has been quelled, the body is on the mend, and the Living Room Republic remains united — more or less.
