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So after I got the index and the proofs off to McFarland, I took Tuesday off, and it felt great. The rest of the week, work got disrupted by all sorts of surprises and tasks. And just when I thought I’d mastered them all, another popped up — which once again put me in mind of this cover, where Luke Cage has the same problem (art by Billy Graham, all rights to current holder).
Wednesday I went to the library to print up Sex for Dinner, Death for Breakfast. Working on Now and Then We Time Travel convinced me I’ll be better off going over a hard copy than reading it off the screen (I’ve no idea why that makes a difference, but it does). Then I hit the dentist (teeth are doing well, thanks for asking), came home … and felt kind of possibly sick. So I didn’t do much. Whether I was still wiped from indexing or just had a slight possible sickness that went away with rest, not doing much did the trick, but more challenges awaited.
Thursday, I hadn’t planned to do much anyway. We have the writers’ group Christmas party here on Saturday, so I devoted the day to cleaning, taking advantage of the puppies being in doggie day care. In addition to my own straightening and sweeping, I also booked a carpet cleaning.
But that morning, I noticed the water in my bathtub didn’t seem to be getting any lower after I finished. So I had to call the plumber. Fortunately, he was able to come and get it taken care of that morning. So by afternoon, everything seemed to be going smoothly … but then I decided to self-clean our oven for the first time ever. I couldn’t do it for a long time, because the childproof lock our home’s former owners installed prevented the oven from locking completely.
Unfortunately I thought it was simple: close the lock, clean the oven, unlock the oven. Nope. You’re not supposed to unlock it until it’s completely cooled; when I pushed the lock on the still-hot oven, I broke it. As I type this, I’m waiting for the repair guy to come, so I can do some baking for the party (I’m also thinking up backup plans in case it isn’t fixable).
Oh, and this morning I discovered the lock on the shed holding our circuit breakers wasn’t working — as in, I couldn’t open it. So I had to call the locksmith, because if anything should trip a circuit breaker, I’d like to be able to turn things back on, particularly heating (it’s getting down below freezing today and early tomorrow). Fortunately, there was a genuine problem, not just me not knowing how to oil the lock. Fixed now, thank goodness.
And all of this left me stressed enough today that I wound up petting the dogs a lot. Not so much because I needed the stress relief as because I find it much harder to resist their demands when I’m off their game. And as TYG could only give them a short walk this morning (it was around 20 degrees), they felt needier than usual.
Despite which, I’m now about nine films into the proofs of Sex for Dinner, Death for Breakfast. It’s quite enjoyable making notes on the manuscript and not worrying whether my editor can read them clearly. I’m pleased how few spelling/grammar errors I’ve found (but I did find a couple); on the downside, a lot of cumbersome sentences have “fix this” by them, a sign I’ll need to play around with them later. So the work’s far from done. But it’s getting there.
Update: The oven is fixed. Christmas-party baking will proceed on schedule tomorrow!