I can't speak to how Apple frog-marches people through upgrades, but having one foot in the Microsoft world and one in the Linux world, there's not a whole lot of urgency. Ubuntu has extended the support for their "LTS" releases to three years. And Windows versions are like "Star Trek" movies in that you figure every other one's gonna suck anyway, so why bother spending the money?
Which, on the surface seems like a good thing. But it's really a trap. And every time I have to switch computers (regardless of whether it's a lateral transfer or an actual upgrade), it's done with the voice of George Carlin echoing in my head. (Link NSFW, of course. Because George Carlin.)
Regardless of context, I'm convinced that there is no substantive difference between moving physically and moving digitally. Except maybe the part where you pretend your friends are really willing to work for pizza and beer. Here's why.
Location. It boils down to a question of optmisation. Cool factor? Macbook Air = cute loft studio apartment in Manhatten. Or Portland. Maybe the Mission District? White picket fence suburban livability? Windows 7 = Mayberry. Which I think is somewhere by, like, Minneapolis...on your way to Omaha. Post-retirement downsizing? iPad Mini (like a Tokyo capsule hotel)...or maybe a netbook with an SD port (Hong Kong "transformer" apartment) Crunchy, off-the-grid-but-with-an-internet-connection living? Debian = Cottage country...mostly during the off-season.
Packing. It's always most valuable before you have to schlep it. And it's worse every time. There are boxes you haven't opened since they were first taped and labeled. Just like that folder named "GutsyGibbonBackup." Easier to just throw them on the pile than triage, amirite?
Scheduling. No matter how much you sandbag, it always takes longer than anticipated to pack--we all know that. Those idiots on Kijiji who never showed up to take your old couch? They lied just like that file copy progress bar. Similarly, you're never really, truly unpacked and "moved in" for weeks, or maybe even months.
"Situational Ownership." Crom help the poor schlub who has their stuff stored on your computer. Evolution's red-fanged process of natural selection is infinitely gentler.
Unexpected Budget Overruns. The mere act of bringing boxes into the house causes the volume of your stuff to expand: It's a law of Physics, fer cryin' in yer Leinie's. Just like the memory stick or external hard drive of three years ago is laughably inadequate when you have to back up your iTunes library. So off you go to buy more capacity, just like you would for boxes, tape or Sharpies.
Third-party Storage. Yeah, you could pay them to keep an eye on your stuff while you're on the move. But can you really trust them? Or even them?
Sense of Unfamiliarity. Bottom line: Your stuff's not where it's used to being. Doesn't matter if it's the bathroom light being on the wrong side of the door in the middle of the night or Gnome hosing up the placement and order of the window min/max/close buttons. There is the irrational urge to burn it all to the ground. Yes, eventually, you will rewire--either the place or your reflexes. But for now, you're too busy trying to get yourself back to a functional state.
Zoning Surprises. Only after you move into the new digs do you appreciate the lame and often just plain stupid restrictions the new environment imposes. Oh, that software doesn't run on 64-bit? Oh, you wanted to install software ON YOUR OWN FRIGGIN PROPERTY without having to create an account with your new corporate overlord? Oh, your new O/S refuses to recognise that wifi dongle and now you have to haul everything to where the router is and untangle two boxes of cords to find a CAT5 cable? Only to discover that all you have on hand is a crossover cable? Sucks to be you.
The New Normal. This is the stage where you and your new environment have achieved some sort of equilibrium and détente. It's the point where the sharp edges have smoothed to a piquant novelty, but not worn down into comfortable familiarity. That's the most enjoyable phase. It's also the most dangerous. Because that's when the cycle of acquisition begins anew. Or, to circle back to Mr. Carlin: "You got more places than you got stuff--now you gotta buy more stuff!"
