You have to be of a certain generation to know that line from one flew over the cuckoos nest, from the lovely Nurse Ratchett, who was as rat-shit as her name implied.  
I lost my hardrive last thursday, not in a bus or anything like that.  It died, in my hands, at 3pm.  Yes I tried plugging it into the another half dozen computers in the house and down the road in perfect strangers houses.  I tried CPR and the tickle monster, but no, it was dead..d...e...d...DEAD.
 On this hardrive was my life, literally, for the last 12 year...and as anyone who knows me for the last 12 years, quite a lot has happened.  I got a degree and a Advanced Grad Dip in that time, and where do you think all my research, projects, essays and assignments are.  
I started a design business, gosh where do you think all my work his...I am an artist, and where do you think all the copies of my art are....also, I am a prolific writer...and where, oh where, do you think all that is.  When I say all that, I mean, thousands poems, short stories and novels, finished and unfinished....wtf....yes WTF.
Even worse then that are all my favourite movies...all the jane austens, and I mean every version...even the stupid ones like Clueless and Bride and Prejudice....yes I said it and I meant it, STUPID.
Argh *throat tightens* Twilight has gone...*I'm gonna burst into tears* Harry Potter has gone and 'It's complicated with Meryl Streep and Alec Balwin has gone....omg *hyperventilating*
All my TV is gone, Nigella,  Rick Stein and River Cottage...*Prostrate on the bed shoving cherry ripes into her gob*  But worse than any of that, worse than even the novels I slaved over and the quirky short stories I wrote at 4am, high on caramello...The Grimm is gone, all four seasons...yes I said it, I like supernatural police proceduals...slap me if you want. But I think gorgeous guys who speak a dozen different languages are fecking awesome.   Yeah yeah yeah this guy....


 I think I'm still in shock because I haven't really freaked out.  And anyone who knows me, knows I am really partial to a good freak out.  Which is actually, freaking me out.  
Lack of freaking out, at a time where freaking out would be appropriate means, for me, that at a time when freaking out is not appropriate...you know, like shopping in a supermarket, competeing in a pub quiz, or even laying in bed licking the jam out of shewsbury biscuits...I could potentially freak out...
be warned

Olivia....

medication time *ding* medication time *ding* medication time *ding*