Okay. Here's the thing. I'm typing up ideas for a project I want to start. Lots of notes, lots of good notes, but good notes are not saved notes. The fates, those sadistic old hags that killed MacBeth, sent a power surge my way. Hours of plot, characterization, setting and betrayal, down the drain.
So I ask you, friends. Feed me your amusing tales of woe. I fear only schadenfreude will heal this hurt.
I have, by the way, learned my lesson, and am now saving every few minutes. My keyboard learned its lesson, too; it took a minute to get all the keys back in their places.