So there I was, happily clicking away on my laptop, about 44,000 words into my second book. My youngest daughter runs up to me, giggling and abnormally bright eyed. I looked up and noticed she was entirely naked. “I pooped!” She yelled, then took off down the hallway, cute white cheeks disappearing into her room.
Panicked, I saved and shut down my laptop, rushing down the hall. She did poop. It was a milk dud graveyard in her room. So, I contained the situation, sanitized the room frantically (I’m a little germophobic), made her get dressed again and–assuming that crazy sauce was her way of saying, “Gee, mom, you’ve been on the computer for a bit and I’d love some of your attention”–I played and pranced and frolicked with them for a few hours.
After a family outing, we returned home and put the girls to bed. I sat down and powered up the laptop. It booted up, then showed an error screen and rebooted. And rebooted. And rebooted.
Oh yes, we had somehow caught a virus, and I’d only backed up my book to 30,000 words. That is a lot to rewrite, and as most writers know, it might be good, it might be better, but it will probably suck majorly and make you dream about what you lost prior to the crash. I was in a bit of a funk last night.
Enter my superhuman husband, who wiki’d–oh yes he did–how to fix a computer and with the help of Woo-Daddy (that’s the kids’ Grandpa on my husband’s side) fixed my computer as of 2 hours ago.
I’m on cloud nine. The purpose of this post: Kids do gross things and laptops crash, but have hope because if you have a story burning in your heart that you need to share, everything will work out, one way or another.