Lots of stuff actually did go wrong today, but it started off badly from the jump. I get up, get out of the house, and make it to my morning writing spot with a good hour and fifteen minutes before work. And my beloved netbook, which worked fine before I left my place, refused to turn on. I heard the hard drive doing... something... whenever I hit the power button. But it just refused to boot up.
This is the point where, in the past, I would've gone off in a rage. Actually, I'm not sure why I didn't. Still, I had a few options. I had a similar problem sometime last year, which I fixed by flashing the BIOS. I had a "rescue USB" drive with me, but I'd forgotten how to use it. I could've gone back home, gotten online, and looked up how to fix what I thought was the problem--which would've eaten up my writing time--or, I could just take it back old school with an ancient method known as "longhand." And, that's what I did.
Because, that's how writers do it. With a red-eye and no fucking excuses.