Phone's ringing. 

>Pick it up.

She's on the other end.

  "My computer doesn't start!"

Removing the battery did the trick. How's the dog? And your 
mother? Good, good, kisses and hugs, I'll see you soon...
Just.. let me.. have this one evening... "Bye, baby!"
Click and clack. Back to biz.

Now... about that bottle -
the store closes at 8:30 UTC, still got time. Let's do this!
Right.  The purchase is uneventful. Good riddance. The clerk 
wasn't the cute vietnamese girl that's always there. Now what? 
Head back to the shabby apartment, sit in front of the 
rejuvenated T42 that just won't die (well, I won't let it) 
and code away at a game in korn. Idiot. Sunday - the poor 
man's sabbatical.

A solid plan of a crazed mind, I admit. Hardly ever do I form
such coherent plans and see them thr - the bottle shatters 
in front of the elevator. The precious drug seeps in between
the floor tiles. Right.

Panic? Bail? Fuck?!

>accept responsibility

Right... 

Mopping up the floor of the hallways now. Whatever, it was
my intention to fill the corridors with the smell of cheap
wine all along. Get on my level. The Ukrainian cleaning lady 
comes on Mondays, but this is my mess. Best get this over with. 
I just about know each and every eyeball behind the doors of 
the first floor apartments. I hear ya, Spirit of the Machine, 
ain't no downtime for the wicked.

Let's try again?

...

#!/usr/bin/env ksh

I won't tempt you again, Hashem, honest.