In addition to re-discovering the sheer joy of having an inquisitive little one around, I discovered that my house is no longer toddler-proof. We pulled out Eldest's ancient animal figurines from the box under a cabinet, and I found marbles and tiny plastic army men and random jingle bells mixed in with the the toys. So as we made a zoo out of animals and blocks, I surreptitiously cleared the box of things that were chokable. In doing so I came across a purple flash drive. Could it be?!?
I inserted the drive in my laptop and let out a shout of glee -- my lost work! There was the outline for (and several sample chapters of) a manuscript I'd spent an entire summer working on several years back. It was all there, even the parts I didn't like. I read it and thought I can work with this!
It's been two years, maybe three, since I lost that drive. There have been several times I've intensely wished to share this particular piece of writing with others. It's here, and it's been here -- within ten feet of my computer -- all this time. Which seems like some sort of metaphor for life, though I'm not quite sure why.
One word: redundancy. (Do you have a gmail address? The in-box comes with lots and lots of space, so you can email yourself drafts in progress (as well as storing them on flash drive).
ReplyDeleteyay!!!
ReplyDelete@Heide,
ReplyDeleteNowadays I use Dropbox, so I have a copy automatically stored online. I'm lousy at backup, lousy at emailing myself copies. For a number of projects that I transmit online I use google docs, which allows multiple people to edit (and keeps track of EVERY version automatically, so you can always go back). It's odd that only 2-3 years ago my backup was a flash drive. I don't use them at all any more.
Thank God for toddlers, eh? Great post.
ReplyDeleteT.
oh hurrah - so glad you found the work. And yep it's interesting how untoddler proof a house can get. We've got very good at having toddlers around and astonished continually at how used to being here they become. The delighted giggles as they head to our marble box is a joy...
ReplyDelete