Dear Blogger,

I hate you. I hate you with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. (Yes, Dianne said it to Sam first, but I don’t see a copyright symbol next to it, so what’s it to you?) I hate you for what you do to me. I hate you for improving your services, making things easier, getting rid of the little rotating publishing icon, and for making me think that all was, finally, right with the world. Yes, I let down my guard, trusted you, and learned to count on you again. And what did you do, you cold, uncaring soul? You let me trust you, and then you pulled the rug out from under me.

You ATE a completed post.

And not just ANY post. You ate a post that had the makings of a perfect rant. You ate a post that was one for the ages.

And no, I’m not tooting my own horn. I don’t do that. I dabble in mediocrity so regularly that people tend to sigh involuntarily the minute they bring up my site. But every once in a while, I get it right. And today was the day.

Or today WAS the day.

How could you?

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