Have you ever imagined what it must have been like for Howard Carter when he finally broke the seal on King Tut's tomb? You spend eight years roaming around the inhospitable Valley of the Kings -- enduring the unrelenting heat, following unfruitful trails, digging unending holes in the unforgiving sand. Then you suddenly happen upon fazillions' worth of gold and jewels, and all those years of frustration and despair and sand-abraded body parts magically melt away. And you spend the next hour or so jumping like a junebug and serenading the sand dunes with barbaric YAAAAAWPS!
I, too, was wandering in the desert, looking for something that would bring me unbridled joy. When I first realized it was missing I became distraught, sure that my life would never recover. But as I rummaged through an old backpack, one that had fallen into disuse a few weeks after I bought it, I felt a little lump in the back pocket and found ... the flash drive I lost last year.
Can we talk about barbaric YAWPs? Hoo-boy, Mr. Carter ain't got shit on me. I had worked by brain bits to the bone trying to replace the irreplaceable, and now so many long-lost writing samples--essays, fiction, effluvia--are returned. Carter might have found acres of booty deep beneath the sand, but what I found is immeasurably more valuable. And thanks to modern technology, my treasure trove is small enough to fit up your butt.