An event so tragic happened that I could only infer the astounding hypotheses that:
a. My mind is so cluttered these days.
b. Indonesians hate portable hard drives.
c. There is an evil conspiracy against me.
Yes. I have failed to locate my portable hard drive.
This happened once, weeks ago, when the Indonesian maid I hired on an hourly basis threw away my portable hard drive along with the trash.
I looked for it high and low, only realising that since I never throw anything away, it must have been the maid.
So I called her up and got an earful of half-understood self-defense arguments which 20 minutes later culminated in an admission that the woman had thrown my portable hard drive.
This was followed by a frantic rummaging of garbage bags which fortunately ended in fruition as I held aloft my portable hard drive, and said, "BY THE POWER OF MAXTOR!"
Needless to say, I never used her services ever again. EVER.
This time around, it happened again. I was away on a conference when I discovered that my portable hard drive was not in my bag.
Thinking I had left the damned thing at home, the first thing I did when I opened the door to my apartment was to fling my arms wide open, so that my portable hard drive can rush up to me and lick my face.
It wasn't so.
Perplexed, and now more than a bit worried, I tore my apartment from limb to limb, in search of my portable hard drive.
I called up the current Indonesian maid I am hiring to clean the place, and got another earful of denials. I wasn't even accusing the broad. Or the previous one. I was just trying to find information in order to get my portable hard drive back.
My porn, my porn. My kingdom for my porn.
And Californication.
And House.
And Heroes.
And Fringe.
And Lost.
And porn.
And movies.
And around 10,000 songs.
O, portable hard drive, portable hard drive, wherefore art thou, portable hard drive?
I had almost come to the conclusion that Indonesians HATE portable hard drives.
Indonesian: Everyone thinks they're such sweet little things...Holding information and series like Fringe ...
Portable Hard Drive: ...
Indonesian: But there's a poison I'd like to administer, you think they're cuddly, but I think they're sinister.
Portable Hard Drive: ...
Indonesian: You'll pay for this, portable hard drive! RWARRRRR!!! RWAARRRR!!! Muahahahaha!
Portable Hard Drive: ...
Then I remembered that I may have left it at the Press Club office. A quick check with the club manager revealed that this could probably be so.
He may be in possession of a God Machine. I aim to retrieve it tomorrow.
Now I feel silly for thinking that Indonesians have a deathly hatred for portable hard drives.
Oh well. That hounding for the thing seems a waste.
I do have loads to do. And as always, before I do a terribly huge amount of writing, I am going to sleep for a couple of hours. I will be dreaming of swords and crowds and ships and ghosts and maids and fuel-pump attendants.
To Stephen: keep it secret, keep it safe.
