Poked, Prodded, Bled, and Squashed
For the past week, every waking moment of my life (and this blog) has been consumed by the publication of my book. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. After all, I’ve been working toward this goal for almost four years.
But now and then, a writer needed to breathe normal air, not the heady perfume of printer’s ink and rising blog traffic statistics. In that case, this morning’s annual physical and mammogram were just what the doctor ordered. There’s nothing like being poked, prodded, bled, and squashed to deflate the ego and remind a person she puts her underwear on one leg at a time just like everybody else.
- Waiting for the nurse, the doctor, lab tech, and the rad tech to do their things left me with plenty of time to think about all the normal stuff waiting to be done at home.
- The basil needs to be clipped and turned into pesto.
- Me and Mr. Clean have a date with the kitchen that can’t be postponed any longer.
- Ditto for the Tidy Bowl man and the bathrooms.
- The dust on the furniture is getting thick.
- The weeds are winning in the flower beds, again.
- It’s time to organize my photo CDs and interview tapes, and speaking DVDs.
- I need to learn iMovie and turn my digital movies into demo speaking DVDs.
- First of the month – time to pay the bills.
Boy, was I glad when the lab tech jabbed me with a needle, and I had something less painful to think about.
But, I wonder, when will I get everything done? I figure right after I spend this weekend scrapbooking with my sister-in-law is soon enough. Unless my book becomes a best seller before then. Fat chance, but a writer’s gotta have her dreams.
