(The title paraphrases Oscar Wilde, of course)
As I mentioned last week, bad, unproductive work days are inevitable. It’s important not to let them give you a negative feeling about an otherwise good, productive week.
Of course, the catch is that bad days can add up fast. And sometimes hit all in the same week. That’s why I’m never really sanguine about them—I can’t shake the fear that if I let one day pass without working hard, pretty soon I’ll be in the land of the lotus eaters 24/7.
As witness this week. Not that I was lotus-eating, but starting Wednesday, my productivity just turned to crap. Nothing major, just one of those weeks where I get nibbled to death by ducks.
Duck #1: I’d noticed the kitchen sink tap had begun dripping and I was pretty sure it was a defect. TYG made the same observation about the master bathroom tap (she uses that sink way more than I do). So I called the plumbers, who arrived this morning. Suffice to say, it was a good call, and we ended up replacing both faucets. But that took time, and I can’t focus on work with contractors in the house. And I wasn’t very productive around the edges either: when it was close to time for them to show up, or they were gone to get some supplies, there didn’t seem much point in starting something and getting interrupted right afterwards. Hmm, it was actually a pretty large duck.
Duck #2: Trixie puked up breakfast on Tuesday. She’s been puking up a little now and again since then, which requires clean-up, and I finally made an appointment with the vet this afternoon. Good thing, too—I was starting to think it was over, but then Trixie puked again after lunch, on me. So time out for a shower and to throw clothes in the hamper.
And then the trip to the vet, which took longer than expected. Nothing lethal: Trixie has eaten something small and metal or small and bone, and it’s upsetting her stomach. So no food or water tonight (they’ve pumped some fluid into her to compensate) and back in the morning, by which point her lower GI tract should be emptying out.
Not as big a duck timewise, but even without being puked on, rather stressful. TYG, who has more dog ownership experience than me is more sanguine.
Duck #3: Mum-related stuff. Straightening out some paperwork, helping my sister with some of Mum’s online stuff, booking a flight to Mum so I can accompany her to a couple of doctor appointments, getting the doctors more paperwork. Not a large duck, but as I’ve mentioned before, this stuff eats into time and focus.
Duck #4: Both Trixie and Plush One seemed a little needier this week, and I’m a soft touch. It may have been my imagination—while I can sometimes read Trixie’s body language, sometimes I know I’m probably anthropomorphizing whatever’s in her head. But maybe if her stomach’s upset, she did feel worse than usual, and Plushie just gets more and more eager to play with us every day (we’re playing with him more, but that doesn’t seem to do anything but whet his appetite). Either way, petting and fussing over them took more time than usual.
I did get some work done on Southern Discomforts and got another short story off. I’m a couple of movies short of my quota, but I think I can make that up over the weekend.
I may also have sold a story: I got a group email saying that all the stories for the anthology have been chosen, please send us your payment information, so I’m assuming it was only sent out to successful submissions. We will see.