Computer virus

So unfortunately my laptop contracted a horribly malicious computer virus. I think it actually came from a torrent file link that told me I needed some weird program to download in order to watch an episode of True Blood. All last Sunday was spent backing up all of my files, and I was lucky enough that the virus didn't attach itself to them. So now my computer has been shipped off to Tejas to have its hard drive wiped, and I am using a loaner iMac from N. Prior to this virus, I hadn't been running any anti-virus software on my computer, so let this be yet another lesson learned the hard way.

Ikea

I think it's safe to say that most people have a love-hate relationship with Ikea: we love the incredible selection of everything ranging from furniture to plastic bag dispensers, the ridiculously low prices, and the unintentionally absurd Swedish product names (Fartyg, anyone?); at the same time, we hate the sheer size of the store, which renders a quick trip virtually impossible, and the awkwardly-sized giant yellow shopping bags made of tarp material. But most of all we hate the fact that everything is sold in pieces, with instructions (if we're lucky) that consist of obscure schematic drawings that look like the blueprint for a Rube Goldberg invention.

Unforuntately, the product that I purchased yesterday, a four-pack of 99-cent picture frames entitled "Clips," has no directions. You'd think assembling a picture frame wouldn't be that complicated, but I have absolutely no idea how to attach the metal "clips" to the picture frame. This is a project that could potentially consume the better half of my Sunday afternoon-- and most likely will, since the majority of the fun/frustration derived from a successful Ikea shopping trip occurs in the aftermath, when you find yourself at home, sitting cross-legged on your floor, surrounded by a stack of glass frames, cardboard backing, and a pile of metal clips with no instructions, pictorial or otherwise.