Three days ago, the hard drive on my MacBook suffered a complete failure.

Dear Readers, please consider this an obituary for my hard drive.

When I received my MacBook, I had mixed feelings towards it. It was paid for by my work, so I didn’t feel as much attachment as my other hardwares which I had bought. It was initially unloved like an adopted child, sans labour and carrying it for nine months.

It was a clever child though. And it soon grew on me. Its ability to turn to the dark side (i.e. Windows) was certainly a convenient trait to have. Tiger, the version of the OS running on it, was snappy and great to use. The number of great applications running on Tiger soon made it part of my life. I converted from Quicken to iBank, Dreamweveaer to Coda, and I paid for OmniPlan project management.

But now it’s dead. One morning, it just refused to wake up. It made the familiar and dreaded clicks, indicating total head crash. Now it’s gone. Like having had a stroke. All its memories are gone.

In a few weeks, a repaired MacBook will come. It will come with fresh memories. But it will be a different MacBook.

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