I should get him a cape. Seriously.
You see, a couple of months ago, I dropped my laptop. On my arm. I know, I know, it's hard to picture, but somehow I accomplished this. My wrist was braced at the time (suspected carpal tunnel) and I was trying to stick it in my book bag one handed, using the injured arm to hold open the bag. It slipped from my good hand and landed straight on my arm, giving me a nice bruise the size of...well, something damn big.
I was more concerned for my laptop than my arm at the time, but the laptop seemed fine. Soon enough, my arm didn't. After doing my best impression of the one-armed cashier (and still managing to be faster than everyone else--seriously. My IPMs rock.) for a few weeks, I sucked it up and went to the doctor. Verdict: No break or fracture, but the mother of all contusions (essentially). So life went on. And CampNaNo was about to start right when I seem to have made a full recover. Win? Win.
Wrong. Funny thing started happening around the time I posted here saying I'd be participating in CampNaNo. I discovered that my hands felt really hot from typing. Really, really hot.Then I realized my laptop was awfully quiet. After closer inspection from probably the least observant writer in the world, it finally came to my attention that my exhaust fan had stopped working.
Panic ensued. My husband tried to set me up on his laptop and I tried to use my tablet. I fought with SkyDrive to show me the most updated version of my WIP (to no avail). I played video games and took out my frustrations on every baddy that crossed my path. But I felt naked--nay, empty, without my laptop.
My husband must have sensed my distress (or possibly took note of how much I was yelling at the electronics in the house), because he came to the rescue. He ordered a new fan, certain the old one had burned out, and spent an entire afternoon slaving over it until he found the vicious culprit responsible for the demise of my precious.