I have no complaints with the Mac Mini that I purchased last November. It’s a speedy and dependable machine, and I’m still impressed with the local storage transfer speeds and the number of memory sucking apps I can run simultaneously.
But I didn’t wait long enough. Apple’s recent announcement on March 25 included a spanking new line of iMacs. What a surprise.
Maybe they just wanted to see how many Mac Mini’s they could sell to people like me who were waiting for this news for about the last 2 years. The ones who listened to the Tech bloggers reporting that if Apple didn’t announce new iMacs at their previous new product announcement, the iMac line was probably dead (except for the one that starts at $4,999).
Sour grapes, eh? Admittedly, yeah. But like I said, the beefed up Mini performs very well and I have no complaints. But for the money I spent on it and the 3rd party monitor, I could have purchased a new iMac for the same money or slightly less, and have even better performance and longevity. And a hell of a lot better graphics.
HA! Shut up, ol’ man. Just shut up. And quit your whining. You done ok.
Yeah, that’s the ticket.
For me, common sense often takes a back seat to what I think I need or want. Not a good thing, and it can be quite awhile before I get back on track.
For the last year or so, I’ve gone to bed between 8:30 and 9:30pm, and got to sleep before 10. Most nights I woke up between 2:30 and 3:30am, and might not get back to sleep. If I managed to get back to sleep, I still woke again between 4:30 and 5:00am with my brain advising strongly that there would be no more shut eye. My average amount of sleep per night in this mode was most always between 4 and 5 hours, with 3 or less on occasion.
Starting my day way before the sun comes up was enjoyable. The peace and quiet, no car or truck traffic coming through, just taking in the calm.
My coffee intake most days was 18oz. I would have a 10oz cup of dark roast (high caffeine) upon rising and an 8oz cup of “regular” coffee with my breakfast around 10:00am. Any more than that was a rare exception.
On a grocery run last week, I grabbed the wrong box of dark roast, getting decaf instead of the regular high test. I swore at myself for 20 minutes when I got home and realized my error. Rather than bring it back to the store, I decided to try a cup, liked it, and decided I’d have it the morning.
I changed my morning coffee routine. I now have the 8oz cup of “regular” coffee when I get up, and 10oz of the decaf dark roast with my breakfast later, so much less caffeine.
Guess what? Bozo boy, for the last 3 nights, is averaging 7.5 hours sleep per night, with one wakeup of shorter duration.
I miss rising predawn, but think I’ll stay on this coffee intake plan. With just these 3 days after that good night’s sleep, I feel more alert, slightly less forgetful, not as easily agitated, and I get more things done in my day (like this post, for example).
There it sits. With it’s two beat-to-crap pillows, on a wet, winter morning in January of last year, waiting for the refuse company’s large truck to arrive and take it to its final resting ground. Our culture has regularly related humorous tales in many forms, on the relationship between men and their sofas, and us guys all see the truth in that.
I slept on that comfy bastard, nightly and most weekend afternoons, for at least 15 years. That didn’t do my back much good, creating painful wake ups in the latter years, but I couldn’t give it up. No, there was nothing wrong with our marriage – my wife and I were just very incompatible sleepers. I moved around a lot in my sleep, went to bed later and got up earlier than her. She snored loudly (as I was also known for on occasion) and a gave off enough heat to warm a cold room. It was like backing into a wood burning stove.
After dragging the sofa out of the garage and placing it at the end of the driveway, I tossed the two pillows on it and went back into the house. While getting breakfast ready, I looked out the window, and the two pillows and the line under the 3 cushions seemed to make a face. A pleased face, proud of its years of service. A content face, for no longer needing to support my bony ass every night. And a face anticipating a peaceful rest of its own, having lived a life with a thankful man.