Boy, do I ever hope those Geeks at the Squad are good at what they do. Something I discovered last night as I came to a stopping place in yesterday’s additions was that I don’t currently have access to more than 95 percent of the stories I’ve written so far. Sadly there’s starts and notes to at least four or five good books in there, and at least a dozen or more mediocre ones.
I don’t even want to think about how many individual short stories, class notes, photos and poems that could potentially be lost. Turns my stomach to think I might well be starting completely from scratch at this point, thesis deadlines now looming.
The lone plus side, as far as I can tell, is that at least I find out now, if that’s truly the case, rather than a week or two–or even worse still, the day of–my actual due date.
What baffles me most is that the total absence of those stories I sought (I mean like several folders seem to have evaporated from where I believe they ought to be) is that all those might disappear and in their place, I’ve somehow acquired something like four copies of every program ever installed on that machine buried within my backups. Don’t get me wrong: I’m behind the whole backup notion 110 percent, especially of late. But four copies of each program? Call me daft (and do so with a clear conscious; I’ve been called a lot worse. Today already, in fact) but that seems a bit excessive to me.
Hell, it’s damn filled the entire memory of brand new tablet already, if these pop up alerts that appear from time to time are truly anything I should give much heed. So far, I tried running updates or scans they suggest, only to be told I’m already up-to-date or just ran whatever process they’ve suggested. It’s quite aggravating, let me tell you.
My hope is that one the Geeks successfully restore everything and clean things up like they said they would, everything will just right itself. Here’s hoping like hell, anyway. Not much else I can do at this point. I find out tomorrow for certain when I pick it back up at 11 a.m.
One thing’s certain, though: If the Geeks manage to recover my stories somehow, the first thing I’m going to do is spend half a day with a handful of flash drives and the Cloud, backing up any and everything I think I might ever find use for again in the future. That, too, might be a bit on the overkill side, even bordering on hypochondria, narcolepsy, athlete’s foot or something, but at least I wouldn’t have this awful sunken stomach thing recurring any time soon.
I’ll tell you straight up, dude: It sucks. Just. Smooth. Sucks…
But enough whining: Before we part, I just had share this. It’s one of about billion pictures I either took or had taken of me during the week of my wedding last November.
This particular shot comes from the main drag in Fredericksburg, though I’m not certain how much longer it might be. They had signs everywhere saying the owners were retiring after what seemed like a few decades in business there.
Still, nothing says taste and sophistication like nine-foot-tall mariachis and the handy, armpit-high Holstein, for that little added support we all could use from time to time.
I soooo wanted to bring one of those mariachis back home with me. One of my buddies dragged home one of those knights in full armor you typically find standing guard down some dungeon corridor or Time Machine restaurant or some such. Like these fellows here, it, too, was made similar pressed-tin materials (in fact, that’s what we wound up naming him, if memory serves: Pressed Tin). I picked the ol’ boy up in Houston at Trader’s Village, having ourselves a fine time of it that afternoon at their many bars placed strategically all over the place. While he was sleeping it off later that afternoon back at the house, my in-laws at the time got hold of it, strapped it down in the middle of his bed and dressed the poor fellow up in this bright hideous bikini.
He had an hour drive back to his place the next morning, past some of the largest churches in the metro area. I would’ve given anything to have heard the comments from all the other vehicles he passed along the way.
Still, this fellow here is just tacky enough to be really cool, I think, and just imagine all the fun we coulda had with this fellow along the way. They had like five in stock. Of course, eve they’re Everything Half Price Sale! sale price far exceeded anything I would’ve wanted or been able to fork over for truly tall and tacky piece of lawn art. I did land a nifty new T-shirt, however. It’s pictured below, too. Hard to believe but I think that may the first Willie Nelson shirt I’ve ever owned…