That every few months, it decides my .OST file is fucked, and that I need to delete it and re-download all my data.
All eight fucking gig.
Miscellaneous Heathen
Hold to the now, the here, through which all future plunges to the past.
That every few months, it decides my .OST file is fucked, and that I need to delete it and re-download all my data.
All eight fucking gig.