Ten lines of nice feedback on a story makes me not only hit the verge of tears but also send back a flailing reply that please God does not sound either insane or overly excited.
...it is that kind of a day.
Computer is shipping. It is in Tennessee. I am staring at the DHL tracker obsessively. I no longer care this is weird; my entire internet life from age twenty-two--nine years people--is in that backup that please God didn't screw up. Not to mention all my fic, all my work stuff, all my webpages, all my homework, all my original fic, all my music, email, and right, weird. Do not care.
...wait. does this mean that if it is lost, I have perfectly legitimate excuse to never finish any of my wips?
*wide eyes*
In closing:
Belated happy birthday to