Ah, gently aging XP machine that lives upstairs… Today I thought I would relieve you of a little of your burden by finally getting my old iTunes installation moved into the newer desktop machine downstairs via home sharing.
So I spent an hour and a half, or it might have been two hours, downloading iTunes 10 on our dodgy too-rural wireless broadband and had just barely got it running on you when suddenly you began complaining that you needed chkdsk run on the F drive because something was corrupted. Then you refused to boot and explained to me that I was going to have to run Windows Repair from the original CD to fix the corrupted config file. And no sooner had I begun doing so than then you explained sweetly to me that you couldn’t see any hard drives to fix. (This being because they’re plugged into their own controller, for which the CD perhaps understandably doesn’t have a driver.)
Now you’re crouching by the TV going BWAHAHAHA at me inside your little nearly-invisible computer thought balloon. Laugh while you can, you naughty creature. Tomorrow morning I yank your guts out by handfuls and remind you who built you in the first place. I will fix your drives, and in the process I will fix your wagon, and I shall have my iTunes in your despite. So BWA-de-ha-HA to you too.
(Note to self for the future: do *not* name any more computers after demon-haunted mountains even if the name is also that of a very good Swiss beer brewed nearby.)