Microcosm.

Apparently computers do not respond well to being stationary for a full year. And when I say stationary, I, of course, mean being stored, in a plastic bag, in my mum's attic. A puppy would not enjoy such beastly treatment, so why should a piece of space-age technology be any different?

The bloody machine can no longer boot up. It'll reach the cutesy Windows XP loading page, with 'the little loading bar that could' loading away right underneath an ominous Windows XP logo. After that, 20 seconds of darkness before the system tries again. And again. And again.

Luckily we have two computers, so I grabbed the other, fully functional, one, and did some online research. The first number of clues pointed me in the direction of overheating.

So I grabbed a screwdriver (the tool, not the drink) and opened up my machine. All I can say is, now I know what Pandora must've felt like.

My god, I have never known just how much dust can accummulate in such a small space. For a second I was under the impression that I'd accidentally opened up the vacuum cleaner instead of my computer. What I found was a thriving dust-bunny society, fully operational with its own economical and judicial systems; with its own culture and science and religion; with its own infrastructure, political parties and fast-food chains. A veritable microcosm living in my bloody computer.

Naturally, I obliterated this miniature society by, well, by blowing really hard. Run, little dust-bunnies, run, because there's a storm brewing.

Alas, no result. The system is still unable to boot. Which means I will have to enlist professional help in the shape and form of an underpaid and (hopefully) overqualified shop clerk (pimples obligatory).

Wish me luck.