Wintry Saturday

It's not an exceptionally cold day outside, but the grey sky is nicely evocative of the season, and the light inside now is thin and cool.  No lights on but the tree and the wreath (with a DVD tossing out a little bit of flickering, of course), it is filmic-ly oblique, and parts of the room lie in shadows while here and there a touch of chill sun seems to overexpose and shimmer, unfocused.

The headache is six days old today, but only for two now has it been attacking in earnest.  Right now, not quite drug free but resigned to the uselessness of analgesics, I sit quietly and contemplate the day.  Much movement sets off the throbbing, so I'm unsure how well any attempted housecleaning might go.  It seems a good day for editing and revision.

I'm at a loss right now as to what to attack.  Going front-to-back through the whole manuscript has been a bit of a dangerous method - lending too easily to getting distracted on minutiae - and Leila's big cut is long since taken care of.  I don't seem to know how I want to manage the one messy subplot I know should go - nor where to start with it.  And so my bubbling brain threatens to boil over, and - though I seem to be able to concentrate well enough - I don't know what to concentrate *on*.  Something about that particular mess makes me want to find some other minor note that can be cut, or worked - so I can work on something else, feel success, and be in an accomplished place before getting to the trickier job.

Naturally, the one thing that comes to mind is something I still feel needs *developing* - Clovis' relationships with and the characters of his sons.  Not the right direction, not at this point.  Cutting is the thing to do, not refinement and rebuilding.

So the writer sits.  And blogs.  And pets the best dog in all the world.  And neither writes - nor dismantles previous writing ...

I Wonder Whether It's A Bad Idea ...

... to be sitting here working on another query with a headache bad enough to have me literally strapping an ice pack to my head.

Probably it is.  But I am JUST that dedicated an author.

Apologies to the agent, though.  I'm still working on that one last sentence.  Here's hoping this won't look too much of a doozy.

*ZONK*

Cue John Goodman: "I was having SUCH a good day!"

This morning a coworker said to me she had a bad feeling about today, and I was in such a happy place I couldn't make myself very empathetic. Last night, I talked to my best friend. Today, I was in a good mood. Getting a job I hadn't been looking forward to done turned out to be not bad at all.

Then we discovered that a job already done was not done properly - and: 100% my fault, that.

I gave the manager "a moment" as she put it, but the good news was that the mistake was more in the way of overdoing a generality than actually causing a catastrophe, so she picked herself up from the reaction, and ended up being able to deliver the snafu almost as an aside in a brief update reporting to managers on project status. I thought her doing that was (a) very kind to me, particularly as The Error was not attributed, and (b) probably smart, too, as there's nothing like a good wigging to cause wigging contagion in others. She even called to apologize for her "grumpiness" - which, no, she wasn't at all grumpy with me, and two, I had made a very clear error, one I should not have made at all. The instructions had been clear, and I squiffed them on being distracted by a detail. We're very lucky the job itself wasn't a more substantial one, information-wise.


Then, on the way home, at that STEEP curve from one major road onto another, the woman in front of me accelerated, so I took my look at traffic behind me, began to take off - and discovered she had stopped again. Damn it. And she was on the phone, but - I was the following car, so of course there's the sick feeling I'm going to be the responsible party.

The officer who came to the scene provided no charges, so that's nice, and no court date. But the way things took their turn today, I just feel queasy, and alone, and simply unable to breathe at all right now.

Then the dog contorted her way out of her harness - but that was a short escape. She's not as headstrong as she was when she was four, AND she also knows I'm no fun when it comes to trying to get me to chase her, so the worst of that deal was having to carry her (yelping as if I were breaking her legs, so that didn't last but a few yards) and then just become a human leash/harness/collar to her across the backyard and back inside. There was a time she would have fought me bloody, AND worked her butt off to escape and run like the very-dumb-about-four-lane-highways-and-rush-hour-traffic wind, but today it's still well over 90, and being put inside wasn't entirely to her disliking.

Still.

I'm left with that hideous, acidic backwash after the adrenaline subsides, and I feel every scintilla of the worst of what I hate about Being Alone in this world right now. I already bugged my best friend last night, and she just came through a crisis, so I cannot call her and whine to make me feel better. X is out of pocket, and I just can't think of anyone I'd be happy to dump any self-indulgence on at this point in my day.

I haven't called my insurance agent, and don't want to, and I haven't even picked up whatever the message is in my voicemail, though in all likelihood it's just my neighbor reminding me I have a haircut with her tomorrow.

I feel *bleah* and there's nowhere to pour that out.

Oh, hey look - a blog. Perfect container. *Glub-blub-glub*

Soreless

The other day, straining against the weight of the earth and the resistance of that one longer root, transplanting that camellia, I thought I was going to be sore in the morning. The bod was kind, and gave that a good miss.

Today, though, I feel another kind of sore. I'm headachey and tired at bone-depth. I keep scolding or just rebuffing Sid for things that aren't her fault, or for being scared of the storm I don't hear until too late. I mean - I'm a woman gruffly "NO"-ing at her because I'm not paying attention (especially to her), when she is scared and has had my love and assurance so abundantly so far this week.

Poor kid. (Then when I realize I've messed up, she's quite right to be like, "Where were you ten minutes ago, Guilty Nice Person?")

Geezit, and it's ten-twenty. What have I done with today? Well, I haven't stamped nor even signed that query I printed to send to the UK last night.

It must be time to go to bed.

Small Consolation

Well, re-reading that post from the last trip, it looks like I had TWO connections on the way home on that trip. Ew. This time, just one each way. And I did get aisle seats at least. Though well enough back in the row count, unfortunately.



I will not be able to stop myself looking and finding out there were direct flights, tomorrow. And I will not be able to stop KICKING MYSELF for what a moron I am, plunging in with my very hard earned money. Ack!

But: the thing is, I'm going to see Wow and Squee this summer.

That is a bunch of a lot to be excited about!

Ever Have One'a Those Days?

Yesterday was just one of those days when I could do no right. Night before last, the tip of my incisor finally broke off while I was eating, and apparently I just do not operate well without a fully matched set of teeth. *Le sigh* In the morning, my day began with some travel planning for the boss; wanting to redeem some reward points, I hit the website and found an array of options. Sent them to boss for approval. Boss says, "I'll do this myself" and I feel rotten about basically offloading something he asked me to help with right back to him. Gah.

Later in the morning, I call to follow up on an expense report. Boss has paid for a train ticket out of his own pocket, and our scan of the receipt is unreadable. Because of the nature of our employer, for audit purposes, it simply is not allowed to forgo a receipt, even for an expense of this nature under $50 - and so, since Boss no longer has the original, I call Amtrak to arrange a duplicate receipt.

Do you know, Amtrak charges TWENTY DOLLARS to provide this service???? Outrageous (and train travelers with expense accounts, be warned - that's pushing half the cost of the dang ticket itself - and of course, it's not an expense-able fee!). I approach Boss again, and he has to throw up his hands again - and it's not even twelve o'clock, people. I just forced a manager I really want to please to eat a travel expense personally - having already set him to tasks he wanted to put on my plate.

Stellar morning.

After this, it's more of the same - just moron, moron, moron, all morning long. At 12:30, my buddy K, our laid back hep cat, says, "your day gets a reset button; you will come back from lunch and it will be smooth sailing" basically.

Apparently, one needs an actual fairy godmother to fill the magic slippers, because though the level of "ugh" stopped ramping up, it didn't reverse, and it didn't even quite peter out. None of what went wrong was technically my fault, and I know that, but I'm the sort who, when I want someone satisfied at my hands, I don't feel good about their being served with mediocrity. Even if I'm just the bearer, I don't like handing over un-stellar messages. Or missing the meeting cancellation I apparently misunderstood, or not being able to answer a question with alacrity (or a positive response). I got these people thinking I am a rock star, and so average-to-meh performance doesn't make me happy.

Today, I started off with a good morning of follow up and taking names, but my visibility in front of my boss didn't change (and one doesn't tug the sleeve of an uninvolved party on administrivia to show off its being competently done), so the impression of yesterday still sat on my nerves.

I ended in good stead, efficient and things accomplished, with tons of follow though today. Still. Could hope for a more exhileratingly fulfilling time of it to come.



You know, and teeth. Ferengi-osity ... *Bleah*

Not Resting

I need to be sleeping, but the caffeinne in that headache pill is keeping me from the possibility. I lay for a while trying to think lovely thoughts of X - of his being here on a day like this, the way we'd run errands, the way we'd sit and read at each other - but I am restless and unable to do right to myself.

The pills aren't working (on the pain) - but they are keeping me nattering. I "called in" on our writers' club meeting today, and can't seem to get down to un-business.

From my experience Saturday, going out when I knew my head was clanging with pain, I know at least I'm avoiding exacerbation. And the laptop is quiet, where turning on the TV would attack me - and reading a paper book would have me in glasses I have been fighting against for a week - but it isn't the brightest headache treatment. I know that. But it is so easy, so temptingly, time-wastingly present.

X tells me if he had headaches like the one I've been describing this week, he'd be grabbing a doctor by the lapels demanding relief.

I, of course, respond by abandoning my glasses, failing to lie down and rest, and pretending that a cocktail of acetaminaphen and ibuprofen, and leaving the TV off, are some sort of therapy. Meanwhile barfing out of my puling brain, knowing the result is drivel.

Hey, clearing the head of drivel must be good for what ails the brainpan. ... No ... ?

Ah well.

Time to try lying down again.

Then probably a stab at Chinese food, later. That might actually be a step up.