BlackBerry pie

I've always found it amusing that I appear to have hitherto-undiscovered powers, such as making ATMs smile, calming people down with a single hug, knowing exactly which cat macro to use in any given situation, and knowing instinctively what to do when my flustered grandfather tries to describe something to me without knowing what he's describing, mostly because it makes me feel some form of special. And who doesn't like that feeling, really? But today I think my healing hands were really put to the test.

My computer's been acting up recently, and this is extremely worrying. I may have to swallow my pride and get at my cousin's fiancé, even though I'm meant to be sufficiently competent with IT. But I digress. My BlackBerry came back today. I got the text from Vodafone yesterday - "your handset has been returned from the repair centre; come to the Vodafone store and get it!!1!!!11!!!11!!!one" - and so this morning (after getting up obscenely late, considering two alarms went off an hour beforehand - but I was up until 4am running a malware scan on my netbook, so it's all within reason) I jollied into town, the sole purpose of my endeavour being to pick up my repaired BlackBerry.

It wasn't repaired.

The main man behind the counter said that, as the damage had been done by excess water (which is true; it got rained on, but I'd hardly call it "excess") and the insides had corroded (he actually handed me a colour photo of the insides, which did indeed look corroded, as if to prove that I'm a doofus), Research In Motion wouldn't repair it and so I could have it back as a testament to how careless I am with my technology, never mind how often I wipe it with a glass-cleaning cloth and meticulously pick out any bits of grit with a sewing needle. He then sent me on my less merry way.

I was cradling the empty shell of the BlackBerry in my hands, as if I were at the deathbed of a very sick, very small person, and decided to steal them... when it suddenly came to life. Right there and then. In my hands. Before I'd left the store. It just turned on.

Nothing was missing. Contacts, messages and pictures (and - to my relief - Twitter) were all still there, exactly where I'd left them. Did ot work? Yes. Did it still work when I got it home? Yes. With my SIM card and a new SD card in it? Yes. Is it still working? Fuck yes.

I am so relieved. OK, so I'm not totally convinced that it's going to live much longer. But it seems to be working perfectly at the moment. And, with the new iPod that someone sexy kindly got for me with a stack of vouchers, I am technologically equipped to take on the world, it seems...

...as soon as I get my computer fixed, that is.