Good girls backup all their data in a logical manner. I thought I had.
Turned out there were essential files I thought I’d transfered to the external HD only to discover it wasn’t there. I know it’s on the other hard drive, but I want everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, on the newer one so that I stay truly backed up.
In my fevered state, I vegged out while watching data transfer. I took great delight in watching the little papers fly out of one fold into another, as if that’s what was really going on. If it were, it would have stopped forty-seven times because of papercuts and at least one virtual finger would have been sliced open on a rogue staple. But, no bloody stumps or curse words…just that crazy flying paper graphic to lull me into a “coma”*. “Coma’s” good when you don’t feel like limping along ineffectually.
Time to pray the throat, fever, congestion, and tummy clear in the next couple days. It’s already been three and I’m getting grumpy. Plus, if I’m sick, I can’t go work at my friend’s house and my bills won’t get paid. I’m working hard to zero them all out post haste. (Help if you can, please; if not, that’s okay, too. I’m grateful for your friendship.)
By the way, have you ever noticed you can kind of predict what turn your “ick” is going to take when everything you do suddenly tastes like mucous or vomit? I can.
Chloraseptic and Vicodin, here I come!
*Real comas aren’t good as Mad Mikey would attest, so we go semi-catatonic instead.