realisation of revitalisation

I started writing this post on 19 Janurary 2007 but never finished it...

"Are we going to the garage sale?". What on earth was he talking about? It was just past 6pm on the Friday night, and there was Nathan, already asking if we could drop in on a garage sale. "Garage sales are on Saturday morning" I told myself, but other than this, I ignored the comment. Sitting on Dad's computer chair - the one with the good arm rests, and just recently upholstered by himself and Mum, I studied the 14.1 inch screen of the Toshiba Satelite A10 laptop - again Dad's, that was sitting on the desk in the library. A sizeable gulp from my tall glass of Keri apple juice with ice (to make it cold) was just the thing. I was trying to find a driver for the inbuilt soundcard on my ASUS A8N-VM motherboard. For some reason or other, the driver CD that came with the mobo doesn't seem to want to install the sound for me, so there you go. On 45.2kbps, www.driverguide.com was really taking too long to load. And without my login details, I was shot. Dad turned the key in the ignition of the Nissan Serena which was parked in our driveway - an example if ever there was one of decent off-street parking here in Avonhead.

A surge of adrenaline hit me as I realised that time was running out. Could I dredge up my login details from deep within the 323mb of data on my Gmail acount in time? Apparently not. For some unjustifiable reason, in the four or five emails I had recieved from driverguide after requesting my login information, they, in there infinte wisdom had seen fit to only give me my password. "You'll never know if you don't go". I probably should know who originally sang "All Star", but I don't. The version I know and love is by Smashmouth, and to be heard on the soundtrack of Shrek 1. This phrase did not come into my head as I minimised Firefox2 and spun off down the hallway towards the front door.

Masterfully flicking my upturned jandals (that are actually Simon's) with my sockless feet that were yet stinking feet from the toil of the day, I slipped them on. Jumping into the passenger seat, I listened to Dad telling me "why we don't open the window in the roof". And fair enough too, - it had been left open all last night - by me.

109 Memorial Ave. "Good address" I told Dad and Nathan. I kept an eye on Dad's feet and gear-stick hand, watching and Learning. "Whoops, we've gone past it". Dad looked behind him. "right, we need to go back two...".