Store High In Transit

And everything seemed to be going so well...

Last night ended with me finishing my essay about Dorothy Parker's persona. I got a week's extension which is now up. I was to hand it in this morning at 8:30.

8:20 is when I realized that the one and only copy of this essay is stored deep within the confines of a highly corrupted disk. This has moved me to profanity.

So now instead of moving steadily along to an essay on Chekhov, I have to try to remember this piece of Store High In Transit essay which I have already completely washed my hands of.

Laura Dern it all to heck.