This column isn't my full-time job. It's the thing I do for fun in my spare time away from my real job.

Unfortunately, with a heavy workload this week, I didn't have any spare time. Suddenly, I found myself facing a morning deadline for both a big work project and this column. This column, I'm afraid to say, that I hadn't even started. I didn't even have an idea.

The kids hadn't done anything cute or poignant this week. The pets were well-behaved. The wife still hadn't filed for divorce. Man, I could get months worth of columns out of a divorce.

Finally, an idea struck me. Riotously funny, and yet still somehow meaningful and touching. Yes, that would do just fine.

First, however, I had to finish my project. I could wrap it up in a few minutes after dinner and then spend the entire evening crafting my column, with the meticulous love and care that you've come to expect.

As soon as I put down my fork, I fired up the computer to get started. The computer blipped and whirred. And whirred. And whirred some more. The screen remained blank. Hmmm. I turned off the computer and turned it back on; the answer for almost all computer woes. Still nothing.

I turned the machine off again. Unplugged it. Plugged it back in and turned it on. Nothing. I swore at it -- the answer for most remaining computer woes -- and still nothing.

Understand that every bit of work I have done for the past two months is on this computer. None of it has been backed up, because, as I like to say, backup is for sissies. If the computer doesn't start not only could I be fired, I could be executed.

My wife suggested I let the computer sit for a few minutes. Maybe it would feel better after a little nap. I asked if maybe I should spoon some chicken soup into the CD drive.

Rest only seemed to make the computer feel worse. The whirring continued. Was it getting louder? I invented three new swear words.

My wife suggested we call her brother, who lives in Colorado and works with computers for a living. Maybe he'd have an idea. Diagnosing a sick or dying computer is difficult over the phone, but he was willing to try.

"You're going to have to take the back off," he told me.

After several minutes with a hammer and blow torch, I was able to accomplish this. Then he wanted to diagnose the noise. Was the whirring from the fan or somewhere else in the computer?

"This might hurt a little, but I want you to find the fan ... and stick your finger in it."

"Stick my ... what? That doesn't sound like a good idea."