And by love, I mean hate, of course. That should be obvious, right? When I say I love something, of course I could actually mean the opposite, in a counter-intuitive sort of way. Spent yesterday, and the previous day, working on a computer that had failed, spectacularly. Lemme say something. I hate Windows Update. It's slow, and it's painful. But gods be damning, it's necessary. You gotta run it, once a week, at least. But using the program after you've just installed Windows onto a PC. It's a drawn out, frustrating process. It's hateful. It's wrong. It leaves you questioning yourself, wondering if this is a sort of BDSM sort of play, but only with you and the computer in front of you: "Is this wrong? Am I wrong? But why does this feel so right?" And the time you've got to spend on this could be used for so much else in life. You could write a resume, submit it to employers, interview, start the job, and then quit it, all the while screami...