Word vomit

I went to sleep last night with my G4 notebook open on my bedside table. I woke up this morning with cat puke all over it. #catladyproblems, I know. But for real, I was pretty much freaking out at 5:30 this morning without any real time to deal with it. I wiped up what I could and set it up to dry before I left for work, but honestly I don't know how salvageable it will be.
I grabbed another notebook from my drawer (yes I do indeed have a whole drawer of blank notebooks, it is a sickness) in case I'm in a writing mood but all day I've been stressing about the few pages I have written in the vomit notebook that I haven't yet typed. I spent quite a while today feeling incapable of writing because i might lose those pages (if the ink ran, the pages stick etc). Now, however, I feel kind of liberated. I was a bit stuck in those pages anyway. I didn't really like them and felt like I was taking the story in a weird direction.
Therefore, I've chosen to view the cat puke incident as an act of the cosmos, some higher writing god telling me to get it together. I'm pitching those pages and starting fresh in the new notebook.