There are four people in our house...and about eight computers.
I jest not. Two of these computers are actually working, the other six or twelve or ten thousand or however many there were last time some poor sucker cleaned the garage (I swear, I might've had a sister at one point who was swallowed by our garage. Nobody speaks of her now. Poor Agnes) are just pieces. This is because my Dad is an IT Technician.
Now Xel, my younger sibling, has his own laptop; a throwaway from Dad's work which does pretty much everything minus internet connection (I did mention the fact that only one of these infernal RAM-munching machines has internet connection?), and I have one in my room. I was promised it "before I went to College". Ladies and Gentlemen, I left College last year.
Now don't get me wrong, I get on with my Dad. We may not understand each other at all; I think he is unnecessarily tight-fisted and would love to present him with a lump of coal to see if he could turn it into a diamond by the end of the day and his response to my incessant 'babbling' (or even just talking) is often the vacant Welch-patented laugh which actually means "I'm not really listening", but we do get on. Thank Heavens, because we're both as stubborn as bullocks and this drives my poor mother up the bleeding wall.
Seeping house fittings aside, my Dad's obsession with computers know no bounds. As my mother once put it, she is fifth in the queue to use the main computer after Dad, me, Xel, Dad (again) and finally her. I am currently sat next to two computer towers. I didn't know which one was active this morning so resorted to jamming buttons like Houston on a bad day for the Apollo until the little green light of solstice and redemption appeared.
Anyway now, have to go. Someone needs the computer...
~ Teeny - "Just call me 'Ms. DOS'"