The car died. The furnace died. Both within an hour of each other. No heat for nearly 24 hours in 20 degree weather. And I couldn’t seek out a warmer clime because being the only member of the family who works at home, I was the designated wait-for-the-plumber person.
And no, he wasn’t anywhere near as sexy and studlicious as Mike the Plumber
In-between trying to write (that is what we authors are supposed to do, right?), I braved the crowds at the mall (yes, the family expects gifts, and some of them couldn’t be purchased online) and baked cookies (because I’m a glutton for punishment.) And because no good deed goes unpunished, I somehow managed to drop an eggshell into the bowl as the mixer whipped around at mach 10. Ever try to pick infinitesimal pieces of eggshell out of cookie dough? Someone slap my hand if I venture near any kitchen appliance other than the microwave until after the holidays!
Trust me, you don’t want to know what else happened over the past 10 days. Makes the car and the furnace look like a day at the spa. Suffice to say I now have rows of square indentations permanently pressed into my forehead from beating my head against the keyboard. (I would have used a wall, but since I’m also the designated -- albeit, quite reluctant -- house painter, I figured it was cheaper to replace a keyboard than buy another gallon of paint, not to mention the time involved in spackling the holes my head would have produced from all that pounding.)
Yes, it’s Manic Monday here at 2B Read. Except lately it seems like Manic Everyday to me. ‘Tis the season for Murphy’s Law. What can go wrong, bah humbug, will go wrong. And there’s never a personal assistant or Santa’s elf around when you need one.
So do you think Danielle and Nora ever have weeks like this?