Roy Smash!!!

Monday, after work, I wiped out my computer. I had grown annoyed beyond comfort by all the little hesitations the machine had picked up in it's many years of tireless service. The worst of all these being upwards of a five second delay when opening certain folders containing certain files, whose associated icons, presumably, the OS took its time digging up.

And becoming bored with my present iconoclasm, I resolved to engage some fresh experiment with this hard drive's renewal. I would have three partitions. The first would be reserved for the operating system, and nothing else. The second would be a page-file area. I've kept a small 2Gb page file partition for several generations now, and I can only laud the practice, as it is the best thing for minimizing file fragmentation and preventing file corruption. The third and final partition, of course, would house the programs and data.

Not too brave, nor far flung a venture, this. Until, perhaps, I add this stipulation: The operating system I would resign to no more than 4Gb's space! Oh yes, now we're flying by the seat of our coattails, grandmama!

I have no idea if I'll be able to sustain my OS in just this tiny space. As of now I have removed the Program Files and Temp directories to the data partition via the registry. I have augmented Firefox to house it's cache there as well. I've deleted all the windows update uninstall directories. And these tasks completed, of my 4Gb's remains a scant 1.38 in which for XP Pro to breathe. Even as I type this I find myself looking over the registry to see what more of my "Shell Folders" might be hastened off the System drive to make room for those other slowly growing files that surely bid to burst the seems of this eensy cordon, some few months travel further down the garden path.

And what do I gain, you ask, by my mad venture; what have I earned for the added labors? Ha! Fools! You know nothing of my power. By which I mean to say that I don't get squat.

Sure, there's someone out there to argue the needfulness and benefit of a thusly isolated OS, but don't forget: Dr. Phil is prime time TV. By which I mean to say that there's at least one whack job to trumpet everything. Honestly, I can't say as there is a meaningful point to this particular of my chosen configuration except that it make me brain go shiny joy-fun time. I just like the idea of it, and so it is; so it has become at the irresistible force of my will's demand. So all shall soon become before the might of my awesome, all-enveloping singular consciousness.

...Puny humans.

1 comment:

  1. really, that's what you did instead of coming to see me.