Just for perspective, everything I’ve ever written and everything I am ever likely to write in my entire life will fit onto this thumb drive. Several times over.
On one hand, it’s weird to consider one’s life’s work compressed into a space smaller than one’s thumb. On the other hand, I really don’t have any excuse not to back up my work, now, do I. On the third hand, in 50 years it’s doubtful anyone will be able to access the data on this drive anyway, so it’s best I keep making printed books, just in case. On the fourth hand, I seem to have twice as many hands as I normally do, and this is a puzzlement.
Hmmm. I think someone may have spiked my Coke Zero. Let me get back to you.