Dead thing.

My Mac died yesterday.
He was fine when I went out to get lunch.
But wouldn't wake up when I got back.

We've spent a lot of time together over the last 5 years.
My companion.
Boy I've worked him hard.
We've worked on trains, in airport lounges, hotel rooms, studios
and my kitchen.
We've stayed in fancy hotels, and horrible dives
had 5 star room service and smuggled sandwiches.

He was getting a bit cranky of late, developing funny quirks
and refusing to work sometimes if he hated a certain typeface
and his power lead would need a bit of wriggling sometimes.

The IT guy is sending him off for a post mortem today.
I wonder if I just asked too much from my lovely Mac?

Still. Fuck him, he's only a machine, hopefully I'll get a new one.