Considering the fact that I spent approximately ten minutes actually being a child… I went from infant to forty-year-old… you’d think that I would not still be struggling with the fact that, as an adult, you are not shielded from slings and arrows.
Who knew that adults had to deal with unexpected things?
I didn’t plan for unexpected things!
I was not informed!
In the midst of writing a series of short stories that I may (or may not) have published in a few weeks, the hard drive in my little laptop shrieked something about the infernal darkness of its soul, raced to the top of a cliff in Yorkshire, and sailed off into sweet oblivion.
To translate: it died.
Now, if I’m honest, I hated that computer with a passion that could have rivaled great lovers throughout time (this is the same computer that spontaneously junked a previous project), but… this is inconvenient to say the least.
My scribblings are safe, but as I am refusing to work on personal projects at work (and if my boss is reading this, I would like a raise, thanx), I am reduced to actually writing in a journal.
My cursive is lovely, but I can’t write as fast as I think, so several thoughts are lost, and my right hand is killing me.
I have recorded myself speaking, and hopefully will be able to transcribe my thoughts later, but I find the sound of my own voice to be like that rattling, whirling, scraping noise that my car makes whenever it’s warm, cold, wet, or dry.
I will probably never record audiobooks.
This was an unexpected setback, and if it had a face, I would slap it.
I shall either rise like a phoenix from the ashes, or I’ll be drowning my sorrows this fall in hot chocolate and episodes of Sleepy Hollow.