I first heard this saying (if it actually is a saying) in the first episode of Desperate Housewives season 2. I never really saw any significance with it (except that it sounded cool), until yesterday.

I actually have a different post prepared for this blog already, but because of the “pouring,” I had to content myself with a new and different one instead. Read along, and you’ll understand why.

Yesterday, I started my day like I always did: turn on the PC on my way to the bathroom. But that “morning” (which was two in the afternoon for normal people) was different—the PC won’t turn on. I tried a few more times with no success and reseated whatever connections could be reseated, didn’t work, so I woke up my tech support-turned-blogger-and-house-husband before I even brushed my teeth—yeah, I still had dragon breath. He was pissy, not because I woke him up with my breath stinking like hell, but because I woke him from his beauty sleep. Usually, a marching band can’t wake up Marc, but after hearing me say that the PC won’t turn on, he was out of bed immediately—he knew from experience that I wouldn’t bother him with PC troubles unless it was really serious.

And so it was.

With the help of our tech blog overlord friend (whom a marching band would also have a difficult time waking up), they were able to determine that the problem was the power supply—power just isn’t getting through. I had a lot of work to do and my offline blog drafts were saved in one of the PC’s drives, but I had no choice but to wait till the evening: our friends already bought us tickets to the opening of the latest Harry Potter movie scheduled at 5pm.

The day started with a shower (the power supply getting busted), and then rain (we missed the earlier part of the movie because of the diagnosis Marc had to do). But the worst was yet to come.

After the movie, we had a late dinner then left Robinson’s Place at Pioneer Street to rush over to the Mall of Asia to purchase a new power supply (computer shops close up at 10pm there, and it was nearly 930pm at that time). I left the boys do their thing, choosing the sturdiest brand they could find. We were happy with our purchase, but then, we got the call from my dad.

He said that a Security Officer-in-Charge of Robinson’s Place Pioneer called him, looking for Marc. The guy said that they found his backpack in the parking lot, far away from where we parked. It was open, and the only things left were a black leather folder and a booklet of empty checks.

Damn. That backpack wasn’t just a backpack—it contained two 1GB memory sticks (not just the ordinary kind, these two had heat sinks!) and a video card.

Well, there goes a functioning PC.

Apparently, we forgot to bring the backpack with us in our rush to the movie theater. I made sure that the doors were locked, but when we examined the passenger door closely, it was damaged. We didn’t notice the damage until we examined it—we were also in a rush to go to the Mall of Asia to beat closing time.

I honestly didn’t know how to feel. I wasn’t hyperventilating or anything, but I felt really weak. I don’t know how to describe the feeling, except that I felt like I lost three best friends. If there’s one thing I’m totally vain about—it’s my PC. I value it more than fashion and makeup, and I could honestly say that I love it after my dogs. The feeling I had was probably similar to somebody losing a diary or some treasured possession.

Call us insane, but Marc and I just tried to see the good out of it once the shock wore off. Abe was kind enough to offer us moral support, and helped us turn this business loss into an opportunity—this was our chance to have a PC upgrade (though there really isn’t much to upgrade anymore… Wahhh!). We even tried consoling ourselves by saying that maybe whoever stole it desperately needed the money, like, that person needed the cash for hospital bills or something. It sounds a bit far out, but telling ourselves that was better than whining how cruel the world was. Besides, it made us feel better—it’s our weird way of coping 😛

When it rains, it really does pour.

Moral of the story: never forget valuables in the car, even if it means missing half the movie you’ve been waiting to see for more than a year.