Writing vent?

I realize now one of the reasons I don't write as much as I used to...more like two reasons.

I used to write all the time, mostly on my dad's old laptop, saved to floppy disc and then continued at school on one of the school computers, until we got a decent home computer.  The computer was always my domain.  Anything went wrong with it, everyone in the house is looking to me to get it fixed.  I kinda liked that.  Everything was still going well many years later, even when the house computer got used to play the Sims 2 more than writing but that was okay.  Either way, my imagination was engaged and I was happy.

And then NanoWriMo 2010 happened.  I knew I was going to be on the computer a lot because I had committed myself to write those 50k words so I informed my mom that I was going to be on the computer a lot and not playing "dolly baby" (as she would call the Sims 2 game).  My grandfather was (and still is) living with us.  I had taken a Sunday to work on my story, and had decided I would be spending the entire day in front of the computer.  Previously, I had taken to writing things out by hand and typing them up before work or during my breaks on the work computer.  On that "lovely" Sunday afternoon, when I felt like I was on a roll, my grandfather calls me from the top of the basement stairs to have a talk.  Really didn't want to because I knew I would forget where I was going in the story but it would be considered disrespectful if I didn't go up those stairs and find out what he wanted.

That's when he informed me I have a computer addiction.  I'm like "what are you talking about?"  Nowhere in the conversation, or any previous conversation, did he even ask what I was doing to actually make an informed diagnosis.  That started souring the idea of being downstairs on the computer, unless he was not around.

The next year, I bought myself a little netbook which worked well, I guess.  I did a bit more writing but due to the cramped nature of the keyboard, it was not comfortable and I soon stopped.  On top of that, the thing is currently as slow as molasses.  I even tried doing yesterday's blog update and was ready to tear my hair out.

Now that I've been out of work for well over a year, I still don't venture too near the computer in the basement very often.  I'm home and I have the time, but so is he.  I spend most of my time in my bedroom, he thinks I am on the verge of clinical depression.  Really?  I just want a job of some sort, a laptop, and somewhere else to hang out and I think that can increase the will to write explanation.

My head right is bursting with ideas for stories and I feel the need to let them out but I never feel comfortable writing when I feel like someone is watching over my shoulder.  It's reasons like this, that I would prefer to live on my own sometimes.  Only thing is that I think I'd miss not seeing the rest of my family on a regular basis.