I plopped myself down this morning and decided to work for a while before heading out for my Very First Physical Therapy appointment. I was on a roll; I typed and typed and typed, saved, typed and typed and typed, saved, typed and typed…well, you get the idea.

I saved as I worked.

Then, as it sometimes does, my computer decided to reboot itself. When it does this, it tends to boot itself back to where ever it was when I turned it on in the morning.

It ate all my work.
About 90 minutes of nonstop writing.

I was brave, I did not cry. I did not scream. I did not take it outside and run it over, even though I really wanted to. I did not dig through the closet for the Spouse Thingy’s gun. After all, a .22 can’t do all that much damage. All I did was (literally) flip it the bird, put it to sleep, and walked away.

It hates me.

In other news, I survived my first PT appointment, and someone learned that when you tell da Wabbit to push with her feet as hard as she can against your hands, that buttocks will meet the wall…and they will not be hers.

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