If I am very lucky, the old adage that bad things happen in threes will hold true for me. Why? Because if one more thing goes wrong this month, I may very well go stark raving mad.
It all started with a phone call to my editor mid-January. My muse had decided to wait until the eleven hour to let loose with the most brilliant changeup to my plot ever. The bad news: it would be a sweeping change, one that would involve tossing about two thirds (!) of my almost finished manuscript. The good news: it really was a great idea, and the book would be so much better for it. My editor agreed, and my new deadline was set: March 1.
It was not a lot of time, but hey, I’m a professional writer, with no kids, a supportive husband, three lazy mutts, and only a one-day-a-week part-time job. It was daunting, but I could do this.
*Cue the Rocky music*
It started off well enough, with me banging out some great pages in the next week. Things were looking good, and optimism buoyed my spirits. See? I totally knew I could do it. So long as nothing went wrong in the next few weeks, I would be fine.
Right. Well, this lovely run lasted for precisely one week, at which time I awoke to find puddles on the dining room table. Within days we had the prognosis: a new roof it would be. The old one had held on for 25 years, but it hadn’t any more life to give. With my husband headed out of town that Sunday, it quickly became apparent that I would have to handle the hiring and over-seeing of the new roof.
Sucky, but certainly not insurmountable. A setback to be sure, but I had every confidence that I could handle things.
Unfortunately, what I didn’t know as I waved goodbye to my husband that Sunday afternoon was that two days earlier, as I innocently went to work at the day job, my sick co-worker had managed to infect me with the bubonic plague.
By Monday morning, I knew something was dreadfully wrong. Popping Vitamin C pills like candy, I struggled to take care of the three dogs, seek out recommendations for roofers, and still write anything at all of worth. My right nostril had forgotten how to breathe, my throat was starting to hurt, and my dogs were giving me dirty looks every time I sneezed and scared them.
Truly, the rest of the week was a blur of Kleenex, Vaporub, phone calls and appointments with roofers, and the seemingly insurmountable task of trying to keep me and my three dogs fed, watered, and more or less alive until such time that my husband finally arrived and could take care of me. It was all I could think of; my husband’s homecoming. If I could only make it until Saturday, he would sweep in like the cavalry and make everything better.
The worst day was Friday, when the roofers started banging at 8 am and didn’t stop until dark. Try as I might, I couldn’t put a cohesive sentence on the page. I had stayed home sick from work, yet between the racket on the roof and three very freaked out dogs, there was no rest to be had. Still, I knew that in another day, the house would be quiet again, and my hubby would be there to take care of me.
At long last, Saturday dawned and the unmistakable sound of a car in the driveway meant only one thing: my husband was home, and my worries were over. Hooray! Someone else to make me soup, and feed the dogs, and bring me hot tea. Someone to go to the store and get more Kleenex and take out the garbage and clean the kitchen. My worries were over, and soon I’d be back on the computer, good as new.
Yeah, well – remember that whole “bad news in threes” thing? Come to find out, my hubby managed to get sick on the way home, and proceeded to climb into bed and sleep for the next 12 hours. So much for being taken care of!
So, here’s to hoping our run of bad luck is over, and there will be nothing but wellness, happiness, and creativity in my house between now and March 1. After all, I have a book to finish!! (It can be done – right? RIGHT?!)
So tell me, what was you most recent trio of bad luck? Please tell me I’m not the only one that has had a streak of bad luck at the very worst time! And wish me good luck, because I doubt I’ll see the light of day until March 1, at which time I will emerge victorious!