But, but, but! Fate's been egging me on. Fate started it! It wasn't bad enough that Dan and Gareth and I all caught the Chest Cold That Ate Pittsburgh. Last night, my computer's hard drive succumbed utterly to a head crash, and the Very Reputable Repair Guy has a three day queue of jobs ahead of mine. I had all my important files backed up, but Dan's computer doesn't feel like talking to my flash drive, so it'll be all cloud computing and longhand rough drafts until I get my Mac back from the shop.
As Virginia Woolf famously observed, a woman writer needs 500 euros a year and a computer of one's own...no, that's not right...a woman writer will gain 500 pounds a year if she sits her butt in her writing chair all day in a room of one's own...how did it go? Anyhow, I'm pretty sure Virginia Woolf would have shaken her head with dismay at seeing a fellow writer in my predicament, going through handkerchiefs at a frightful rate and having to borrow her husband's computer in the wee hours of the morning, when her first book is, at least in theory, coming out in two weeks.