(FORTUNE Magazine) – It's impossible for me to live without a computer. But it shouldn't be impossible for me to live without my computer.

I had the unfortunate opportunity to coin that little maxim--and still have plenty of time left over to ponder its meaning for the computer industry--when the hard disk in my permanent computer failed recently. For more than a month, I used temporary computers as I waited for it to be replaced. And in doing so, I learned all over again what I depend on and what just makes computing fun (or not). The most annoying part of living on a temporary computer, it turns out, isn't losing access to the stuff critical to working. It's losing the little, everyday programs that make computing really useful and personal.

Computers do things for me I can no longer do my job without. I need to communicate by e-mail. I need access to documents that apply to my portfolio companies and that provide me with professional information; many of those documents I can now get in a timely fashion only if I can read them on a computer. I need to be able to gather information quickly. I didn't use to need to do this, but now I can't work effectively without being able to "Google" someone or do financial or market research on the Internet.

But I can do all of that without caring which computer I'm using. In fact, I could ask to borrow a stranger's computer in an airport lounge or coffee shop and, as long as it has a fast connection to the Internet, be plenty productive.

So why does the maxim say that I "shouldn't" need my own computer, rather than I "don't" need my own? Because many of the most important software programs handcuff me to my personal machine--even though the technology to liberate me wouldn't involve a great leap.

My biggest problems were with Microsoft Office. Every time I started with a new temporary computer--I went through several--I had to reconfigure Outlook to work the way I like it. Sure, I could have run it in default mode, but since this is the program I use more than any other, I need to be comfortable with it. Outlook stores all your mail and appointments in another program called Exchange, which resides on a server on the network and so is unaffected by what happens on my computer. But the one thing that Outlook doesn't store in Exchange is the configuration I like to use. So I have to configure each temporary machine, which means I have to remember where the weird commands are for setting the views and actions I like. I've configured Outlook four or five times this month--time that doesn't help me find new companies to invest in.

The problem extends to other parts of Microsoft Office as well. Right now I'm trying to remember how to set a shortcut key combination to get Word to give me a word count on this article. And I just had to remember how to turn off what Microsoft calls the Office Assistant, an obnoxious little animation that keeps suggesting worthless ways to use Microsoft Word, none of which show me how to set up a shortcut key. I had all this stuff worked out on my last permanent computer. Why couldn't these preferences all sit on the server and update whenever I plug in?

Clearly I'm an old fogey for even worrying about this. My kids, all nomadic, as younger people tend to be, use Hotmail or Yahoo Mail for their regular e-mail address. They're not dependent on client e-mail software and don't even really need their own computers. I'm beginning to feel a certain jealousy about their freedom. But I'm also beginning to wonder about the software companies that aren't prepared for the day, which is just around the corner, when the most important applications will be plucked as needed from the Net.

It's not just badly designed programs that are driving people to throw their hands up. I suspect that the hard disk in my last computer failed precisely because I was using too much software and trying too many different programs. That may sound like user paranoia, but it's the kind of thought that a lot of us have. Computers are so complex, so overlaid with legacies and design glitches and strange, unexplainable features, that we often feel they are in control, rather than us.

This is not to say that client-side software is worthless. In fact, being a computing nomad made me miss a host of familiar programs, most having to do with convenience. These include big ones like Intuit's Quicken (although that can be as frustrating to work with as Outlook); programs from my portfolio companies like the Zinio digital magazine reader and MailFrontier's Matador spam controller; little pieces of software that I've gotten used to like the Google toolbar, Pop-Up Stopper, and Webshots; and crucial utilities like the Palm synchronizer for my Handspring Treo.

What's funny is that while this is software I can live without, I missed it because it is useful and rarely frustrates me. Isn't that an interesting conclusion to come to, one that might give you insight into software design? The software you have to use, stuff like the operating system and the word processor and the e-mail client, is the stuff that really drives you crazy. But the software that you don't have to use, little utilities and devices for doing noncritical tasks, has to be good enough and useable enough to not drive you crazy!

It's these handy programs that keep me wedded to my permanent computer, not the software that I have to have. I wonder if there's some way the people (read: Microsoft) who make the frustrating software could learn how to design their programs as though they were optional.