No, not the end of my manuscript.
The end of my iBook.
Today, my computer crashed. I mean, it really crashed, as in it slipped off my pregnant lap onto the floor and crashed. It wasn't much of a fall, but enough to kill the seven-year old Mac.
Luckily, I had backed up my file with the exception of maybe 1000 words, which I will reclaim tonight.
So the Latin Litigating Lover and I had a talk. Could we afford a new laptop? Well, we figured if A + B divided by the square root of X equals maybe we can afford it, then maybe we can.
So we did. Only I just wanted my husband's laptop's twin while he tried to convince me to get the one with the bigger screen.
In the end, I said you take the big screen brand new laptop. I'll take your laptop. So husband is happy because now he has new electronics. I am happy because now my laptop isn't an old man. And he is kind of pretty.
P.S. New laptop is not a Mac. I know a lot of writers dream of Macs, but I had one for seven years and decided it was nothing very special for way too much money. Give me my second-hand Toshiba anyday.
P.S.S. I would take a picture of my Toshiba, but I've been dropping more than just laptops lately. And my camera is at Kodak being repaired from its recent fall.