On Thursday, writing buddy Rita and I spent five hours going through a hard edit of the next two chapters of the Messenger. On Saturday, when I managed to put the sixteen pages of alterations together in print, my laptop crashed and I lost it all. The machine crashed badly once before and I had the hard drive replaced, but I guess in the back of my mind, I knew there was still a problem. So, on Sunday, I bought a new laptop and transferred the story across - then spent until today rewriting and trying to remember what I had altered and how I had written it. Whoever is up there looking down on me is determined I will remain grounded and have to work my ba**s off for any success - which, I suppose, is the way it should be - and what I will do.
Does anybody else have a cat who won't pee unless it's done over a drain? I suppose we should be grateful it isn't on the carpet, but, in the middle of the night, it's a little disconcerting to find the cat in the bath using the plughole!
Say goodnight to the folks, Gracie.
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