When I die, there is a very good chance you'll have to pry this computer from my cold, dead fingers. Gruesome, I know. But true. I love this hunk of metal, and I hate to be parted from it for more than a few hours at a time. (On second thought, maybe you should bury it with me. Yeah. I like that idea.)

But my baby has grander duties beyond my simple browsing and blogging. It must accompany Patrick out into the Wide World of Making Money on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

Sob.

I accept my fate, though. Go with gusto, my sweet computer, and carve out a living for us.

But promise you'll come back to me. I stand on the shores, day after day, scanning the horizon for my internet access...