So here I sit, working away on my windows box, watching my Ubuntu system churn away, fetching packages for the impending upgrade.  I saw that 8.04 LTS was released, so I figured it was time to move from my old and dusty, previous LTS release to this presumably hot and tasty new offering.  After downloading a scant 1530 packages, I'll be ready to start installing the upgrades. I'll try to bite back my overwhelming sense of exuberance so as to not cause a monsoon like wave of jealousy to wash over you as you behold in sheer awe induced stupor the phantasm of a life that I lead, bereft of all menial tasks.

I know this would take less time if I upgraded more often, but frankly, that idea induces a shrieking howl from the very core of my being. The sharp sting of the pain caused by the uncertainty I've long felt while waiting, with bated breath, for a system upgrade to complete could most aptly be compared with a thunderous Chuck Norris roundhouse to the face. I mean to say that I'm not exactly a fan of the upgrade process, in general. Waiting for long periods of time while unseen servants whisk packages to and fro, rending from the stable walls of my environment the old, only to just as urgently fill the gaping space suddenly left by the absence of the once merrily functioning piece of a larger framework with a new, polished, yet vastly unknown version, claiming to be better, faster, stronger, is not my ideal day at the park, as it were.

It is with blind faith normally reserved for some ghostly, floating deity that I sit idly by while this rampant demolition and reconstruction of a vitally important tool, used for my very livelihood is performed. This is more apt than expected, as many a time have muttered prayers and pleadings with any and all such omnipotent figures that may be listening left my lips in hopes of somehow swaying their will to spare but an ounce of their unbridled power to ensure the safe and successful upgrade of the system currently undergoing renovation.

On deaf ears these pleas have fallen for too long. That is, until I found Ubuntu. Long had I roamed countless deserts and wastelands in search of a system that would move from one version to the next swiftly and easily, without raining down terror and destruction on my carefully tuned settings and automation devices. Ubuntu has filled that void, much to my relief.

Yet, even given its flawless (knock on wood) track record of successful upgrades, I can't help but squirm and shiver a bit from time to time as I watch the blinking light telling me that the whirring sound I hear is indeed my beloved hard drive spinning at a frantic pace in a desperate attempt to keep up with the rapidly fluxing data as the upgrade trudges ever onward. The very same hard drive on which I've faithfully stored countless files, folders and even tiny fragments of my very soul for safe keeping. Logically I'm confident and sure that the upgrade will go smoothly, but somehow there is a chilling, unrelenting horror bottled inside somewhere, gurgling just beneath the surface of my currently calm demeanor, threatening to overwhelm. I only hope that my faith in the automated upgrade process that has served me well before is still soundly placed.

Well, if you need me, I'll be the one in the corner, muttering.