Resurrecting The Dead

I'm sitting in bed, using my laptop, with the fan noise to keep my company, and a snoring A downstairs.
 Yesterday, I was working on my 65th page of my manuscript, when I accidentally hit some buttons, and poof! I was staring at a blank document. I tried Edit-Undo, nothing. Searched around some more, nothing. Then I had the brilliant idea that hey, maybe it's floating out there somewhere, and if I save it, then at least it's saved somewhere out in cyber space. No, I just saved a blank document over the file, rendering it a blank document. Bye Bye 65 pages. No, I didn't have it saved in multiple locations, like smart people do.
 Earlier today, while at work, I was quite bummed about it. But then, reflecting on it, maybe it was supposed to happen. After all, it featured a past lifestyle- perhaps it wasn't supposed to be glorified in a novel. To be honest, it was a bit of a relief. I had the plot all planned out and was just really plodding through it (no pun intended) trying to reach the end.
 So, when I got home today, I took a long hot shower, and thought about the several novel ideas I have, and I also thought about my "completed" manuscript that I had fixed up into a somewhat presentable bundle and sent off to a publisher in Florida. This was 2009, before I left my ex-husband.
I had never been satisfied with the manuscript, and I will admit that I sent it off well before it was really ready to get into an editor's hands- early writer mistakes on impatience. Impatient for an agented, published work and the royalty checks. I'm still impatient, but I'm much more schooled on the writing process, especially how long it takes to get to The End and the Land of Royalty Checks.
 I found my old zip drive, which has my manuscript on it. I'm slowly converting it and waking up the cast of characters that I was so enamored with once upon a time.
Hey, it's still a bad ass manuscript.
K