A Writer’s Life, or what I really did yesterday

This is what happens when your husband gets sick and can’t pull transport duty:

  • Up at 6:30 am (after going to bed at 1:30am).
  • Walk dog.
  • Take daughter to riding lesson, two towns away.
  • Take daughter’s friend home to feed cat. (She’s staying with us this weekend while her sister’s volleyball team plays for the state championship.)
  • Home to spend 1 hour writing.
  • Pick up daughter’s friend.
  • Pick up daughter (again, two towns away–usually I just stay there and write at a nearby coffee shop, but I couldn’t because of friend and sick husband).
  • Fast food lunch for three.
  • Buy daughter winter riding breeches and socks (sale!)
  • Stop by Post Office.
  • Go to BiMart to return two defective backpacks and buy milk and aluminum foil.
  • Gas up car. $3.21.9 per gallon. Egad.
  • Complete huge loop with stop at “Great Harvest Bakery”:http://www.greatharvest.com/ for multi-grain sourdough. Sample Pacific Crest Crunch bread. Lust for Pacific Crest Crunch bread, but only have $5 in pocket and need the sourdough. Darn. (Great Harvest is a franchise. Use the link to see if you have one near you. Definitely worth finding one.)
  • Finally home at 2pm to truly begin a writing day that should have started at 7 am.
  • Walk dog.
  • Take son to 4pm call for his high school play. (They’re doing Twelve Angry Men, except they call it Twelve Angry Jurors because they have a rotating cast of 24 men and women that they put into 8 different juries during the run of the play. The dynamics change with every performance. Very cool. Even cooler seeing my son on stage for the very first time.)
  • Take daughter’s friend back to see to cat again (combined with trip for son).
  • Pick up pizza for supper.
  • More writing.
  • Walk dog.
  • More writing, until I fall over just before midnight.

All pleasantly interrupted (can you interrupt a schedule that erratic?) with occasional visits to the sick room to see if hubby needs anything.

Today should be better. I hope.


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