Someone broke into my apartment yesterday and stole my computer, my phone, my camera, and my whiskey. Pretty much all I had, they took. The worst part is I had about 25 or so unbacked-up pages of my new novel on there. Pages I just hadn't gotten around to backing up yet. They were really good.
I was so proud of that MacBook. I wanted it for so long and I finally bought it. Everything important to me was on it. I used it for everything. It was the only possession I owned that I really cared about. It was a symbol of me finally sort of getting my shit together.
Don't call me because I don't have a phone. I don't really have anything right now.