Just in case you thought a writer’s life was a never-ending cycle of literary glamor
So I’m drenched in sweat from having to clean up a puddle of cat pee on the bay window ledge in the kitchen (which requires me to climb up ON THE COUNTER to reach it as it’s a deep window that is directly behind the sink. At this point I am still in my jammies, haven’t taken my meds or eaten breakfast yet, just so you get the full picture). Once I’m up there, I have to wipe everything down with enzyme cleaner and then water, climb back down, add more dirt to the large pot that Jemma mistakenly used as a litterbox (decorative stones will be added to the top so that none of them can dig in it) and two other pots because what the hell, might as well fill all of them while I have the potting soil out, clean all the excess dirt from the original digging and my own work off the sink and counters, sweep the floor, clean the litterboxes, spritz the food bowls and water bowls, and mediate Jemma and Jessie growling and chasing each other all over the kitchen and living room With Intent.
If that wasn’t enough, I then hear a knock at the door. While I’m still in my jammies. Whee. I open it a crack to see the landscaping guy whom I’d called on Tuesday, apologizing for not calling first but he was in the neighborhood so… One quick-change into yoga pants and a t-shirt later, I’m giving him a tour of Casa Cameron and showing him all the stuff that needs to be done. He promises to call me next week with an estimate, and I see him off.
I then realize it’s 12:40 PM and I have to get off to my Monday writing meet-up with two friends. Still haven’t had my meds or breakfast yet, note. I pop the meds and head off to the meetup, resigning myself to a carb-laden meal because I have to eat SOMETHING and soon or things will get ugly.
Got 1500 words done on Breaker Zone but I have a battle/rescue scene to plot out and have to come back home for that so I can blast the Pacific Rim soundtrack over the headphones while I write. Jessie is sleeping upstairs and Jemma is somewhere around here, I don’t know where. And as long as it stays quiet, I don’t care.
Is the day over with, yet?
Posted on July 11, 2014, in Breaker Zone, Personal, Writing and tagged arrgh, Breaker Zone, cats, nicola cameron, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Just in case you thought a writer’s life was a never-ending cycle of literary glamor.