After going through my own version of the seven stages of grieving, viz., (1) being furious at myself for my own stupidity, (2) panicking over the financial implications, (3) lashing out over the perceived lack of emotional support from friends and family, (4) trying to replace the broken laptop dès que possible and being frustrated at one not being in stock, (5) expressing amazement at my dependency on the silly thing, etc., etc., I’ve settled myself down and sorted myself out. The sun rose the next morning. As a rule, I bottom out magnificently, but pull myself back together quickly.
We’ve decided that the new computer will be a 17-inch iMac. A little harder for me to break, and it trades off mobility — which frankly I need less of lately, what with my plethora of gadgetry — for additional features for roughly the same price. Assuming we can find one in stock, that is. The iBook is still operable, just with shattered glass in the LCD, so it will be possible to get critical files off it in the meantime and trivial to move my data over to the new computer — FireWire target disk mode, baby.