Love at first laptop <3

I just noticed that yesterday's was my 100th blog post. Besides internet-based private diaries, I have never kept one blog running half as long as this one, and I see no end in sight. So thank you, readers-- especially commentors-- for making me feel interesting and loved. I would make videos whether or not anyone watched them, but I feel like you guys are mostly responsible for my desire to write down my daily thoughts. It's helped remind me how much I love writing, and it's helped me feel connected to my audience. So let's all raise a toast (seriously, pick up anything near you and hold it at arm's length. Coffee cup, mousepad, baby; anything'll do the trick) to the last hundred entries, and to the next hundred to come. Huffah!

I woke up this morning with the slight disappointment that comes with a lack of plans. I could scavenge youtube for video ideas, I thought. Or just turn on my camera and see what happens? But alas, I then remembered that the last time I did that, I ended up with this. There're still some pizza rolls in the freezer, said Stomach. Who says breakfast can't be microwaveable tomato sauce lava? But delicious as they are, even Tostino isn't enough incentive to get up and greet the day. Alas, sighed Brain. I guess we'll just stay in bed and read @mileycyrus tweets on our phone until something happens. And then something seeeriously happened.

A motor's roar from the end of the street induced my dogs into a barking fit. I jolted upward in my bed to see a beacon of hope, shaped like a FedEx truck, coming to a stop in front of my house. With a yelp, I scurried into the pajama pants lying in a heap on my floor.  I jumped about six steps at a time and made it to the door just as the bell rang, my hair a mess and my grin wide. Before he could get a word in, I scribbled something vaguely resembling my initials on his little screen and ripped the box from the man's hands. "Wait, are you over eighteen?" he called through my cheers of exaltation. Barely noticing him for all my glee, I practically screamed something mature and worldly like "Yuh huh!" before I slammed the door in his face and happydanced.

It has finally arrived. My 13" aluminum MacBook Pro. It's beautiful and comfortable and makes a gorgeous tiny noise when I shut it, like an almost inaudible clap. Everything is registered in my name. The background is a zoomed-in photograph of a zebra, and I've set it so when I highlight things, it's coral. My desktop is empty but for the harddrive and a single Word document, containing half a tentative new first chapter of one of my novels. I can't remember the last time I felt this at ease and able to write. I feel competent again. And funny. I'm practically manic, people, thanks to this perfect little metal piece of evidence that money can buy happiness.

Sexy: Like I really need to say it again!

Unsexy: The inevitable learning period in which one must become accustomed to a lack of mouse, search high and low for a FireWire 400-to-800 adapter, and get confused by a seemingly uncontrollable zoom effect.

Chipotle burritos this year: 24

S'mores this summer: 6

Subscribers: 18,688

Bye, guys! Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow. <3