January 20, 2012
And then there was the time I pressed that button.
While prepping my server for an upgrade this morning, guess what happened! I sort of deleted the entire database. Yes, that's right, I pressed a button and like magic all eight years of writing and cat pictures and navel-gazing and comma splices disappeared. Gone. Finished.
Luckily I have a remarkable server company (pair.com, if you need the best hosting on the planet) and John at the help desk was able to restore my database from a backup and he didn't even laugh at me (much) when I offered to come to his house in Pennsylvania and show him my thanks in person. By cleaning his house of course! Duh.
It sounds all funny and whoopsy and easypeasy now but readers, what I experienced this morning was a full thermonuclear meltdown. When I realized my error -- just after ruining years of work but just before finding solace in the soothing dulcet tones of Help Desk John -- I experienced a mix of physical and psychological insanity that I have only felt once before in my life.
When I was thirteen my mom left my adorable, perfect, blonde baby brother Eric in my care at the Acadiana Mall in Lafayette, Louisiana for one hour. It was hard being a mom to two awful teenagers and one crying (but adorable) baby, so I do not blame her for trusting her youngest and most adorable child to a permed, bracefaced kid with a deep obsession for Duran Duran keyboardist Nick Rhodes. While I was using my allowance to buy a pair of acid-washed denim jeans with zippers at the ankles, my little brother vanished in the middle of Express. He was only hiding under a rounder of long, flammable rayon dresses but those few minutes when he was missing and not answering my frantic calls were the worst moments of my life. My baby brother was missing and probably being sold on the black market and I was SO GROUNDED and would never be able to live with myself or wear my cute new jeans.
Then of course we found him and I made him promise to never tell what happened. As soon as our mom picked us up in the food court he told her exactly what happened and I was SO GROUNDED. But it didn't matter, really, because I had my little brother safe and sound and I had my acid-washed jeans with the tiny ankle zippers and all was well in the universe and one day Nick Rhodes would come to Bayou Nowhere, Louisiana and marry me.
My point here is that you should never push the delete button without first backing up the database. And even then, go shopping instead of deleting. Listen to some old Duran Duran songs. Call your mother. Do whatever it takes to keep from nuking your life's work. There is more to life than a tidy file structure, OK?
Posted by laurie at January 20, 2012 2:28 PM