So I’ve been having nightmares for a week. I’m sure we could delve into the deep, dark, psychological reasons why—though I think I’ll save that for my new therapist, THE LUCKY WOMAN—but it’s a pretty complicated scenario to interpret. See, the kids left for the first of their summer trips with their dad, yesterday, and all week I’ve been dreaming about something awful happening to them. Huh. I WONDER WHAT THAT’S ABOUT.
My darling husband has been so eager to distract me from The Crazy that he asked me approximately 294 times yesterday if I was okay, and he also suggested we go out on a date last night to take my mind off of things.
He offered to take me out for sushi, which was when I realized that perhaps my moping was scaring him. (Otto doesn’t eat sushi.) So we headed out last night for our wild evening of freedom.
Dinner was excellent. Afterwards we went and saw the new Indiana Jones movie, which we also quite enjoyed. It was a rare evening of being adults; no children to placate, no babysitter to race home to. And although the kids called in the middle of dinner, that was nice, too, to hear their voices. They even demanded to talk to Otto, which warmed my shriveled little heart.
We arrived home quite late, and—as is my custom—I sat down to check my email.
My computer woke up, but then locked up almost immediately.
Huh. After trying a couple of things, I rebooted it. Well, I tried to, anyway.
After being a PC owner for years and years, I thought the worst feeling in the world had to be seeing that ubiquitous Blue Screen of Death. But last night I discovered there’s actually a WORSE feeling—when your Mac flashes a file icon with a question mark in the center.
That’s Apple for “Hey, your machine is completely fucked.”
While we were out having a nice dinner, my beloved MacBook took it upon itself to have a nice meal, too. BY COOKING ITSELF.
Hey, the good news is that the kids are still fine. The bad news is that if I’d spent some of the previous week backing up my computer instead of worrying about them, I might not be sitting on the couch wondering how it is that I bought a new computer, started keeping meticulous records, and yet managed to back up absolutely nothing and now six months of my work and records are completely gone.
Otto is on his way to the closest open Genius Bar right now (an hour away). I told him I needed to stay home to beat myself up some more. Update: Otto just called from the Genius Bar. My hard drive—and six months worth of writing, accounting, contracts, and all the rest—are gone. GONE. He’s coming home with a new drive and a Time Capsule.
Which doesn’t make up for the fact that I am a stupidest moron on the planet.