I'm glad Office 2003 works just fine on Vista then.

Anyway, since I still have a bit over 2 hours left, I thought I'd post a couple poems I did in class.
Jumper
Mikhail amasov walked out onto the cold steel.
The hour was early,
The air was misty,
The sun reflecting off the opaque mountains from afar.
He carried a coiled bungie cord,
To the middle of the bridge.
It was familiar to him,
He'd examined it before.
At 53 years old,
His life still felt unfufilled.
Work was fine,
But lacked the excitement he desired.
He fastened the bungie cord
To a secure location,
Then jumped into the morning mist,
The cool air rushing past his face.
An engineer by trade,
He was no extreme sportsman.
It seems he miscalculated,
The cord wrapping around his neck
After his first bounce.
He fell back to earth, interrupted
A Curse
A curse on ye
Who created poetry
Feeling without context
Or logical placement
Emphasis on syntax
But no depth of predicament
A jumble of words
That still makes sense to someone
Who makes gold out of turds
Then acts insulted when no one
Shares their delusion
A curse on ye
Who created poetry
Someday, I will be free