Time on My Hands

Good news bad news. Good news - I don't need to fret about posting my Blasts From the Past any more. And therefore have more time in my day.

Bad news - the draft I thought I had saved of a carefully-worded and exciting pitch to a publisher vanished without a fucking trace.

I can't even get rid of the window full of the empty document. It's just. There. Unkillable. Uneditable. Unbelievable.

So yeah.

Some of my morning will be absorbed by recreating that thing, hopefully better than the one before it. RIP.

So of course I'm procrastinating and hoping that there's something I can do to salvage the original because... even though I'm a cynical pessimist about most things, I'd rather cling to hope.

I'll get that solution when I finish the draft of the new email. You watch.