When Matt's laptop gave out last night, which he informed me of today, I spend more time consoling his computer than him. Sitting next to the laptop on the floor, saying "Poor baby" while Matt dialed up the 1-800 number on his warranty info.

I love how the tech support person first treats you like an idiot with questions like "Are you sure it's plugged in?" and "Are you sure you're pressing the power button?" and then tells you to crack open the case and poke around. It's a strange jump from suspecting that we suddenly forgot how to turn on the computer properly after years of use to casually asking us to remove the RAM.