right now I have four books on my desk. Well, not exactly on my desk, but on my calendar. Two for authors who contacted me, too from my bread-and-butter customer, a major publishing house. Under normal circumstances, I can do 500-700 pages a week. So far this week, I’ve done less than 100. Which means I have 300 more pages to do by Sunday then need to do over 100 as quickly as possible for one of the authors. Then I start on another book for my primary customer and another book for an author. And knowing my primary client, they’ll sneak another book in there somewhere. I like being busy, I like the money, I love my work. What I don’t like is a broken wrist. I know, I know, I’m whining. I don’t know which I like better, whining or playing with the software. But it hasn’t been a week yet so I get to whine some more. I figure I should get at least two weeks to whine, more if the news is bad on Monday. Six months in a cast deserves at least a month of whining, with intermittent whining at four-week intervals. So if you happen to be one of the lucky people who know me in real life prepare for a long, hard whine.
oh yeah, I remember where I was going with this. The floor in our new house is buckling, and needs to be ripped out. Our son-in-law, who installed the floor, is coming on Thursday to fix it. I think it’s a bigger job than can be done in two days. I’d be ripping floor out, but my main ripping instrument is in the cast. I realize I have a matched set, but after half a century of being purely decorative, my left hand is stretched to its limits. I am learning to move a mouse with my left hand, to get a fork all the way to my mouth, and to pick up a cup without spilling water all over the floor.
Someone assured me today that this will actually be good for my brain. You know left brain right brain. That crap. But here’s a scary thought. Although I am right handed and therefore should be left brained, my right brain seems to be doing just fine. In fact, it’s in overdrive. I tend to be wildly creative, mostly in the making up of absurd theories that tend to drive the people around me insane. If my right brain is strengthened by the incessant use of my left arm, we could all be in trouble.
You guys all better hope that I get my right hand back soon. I promise, if I’m in a cast for six months, that I will come to your house and haunt you with my whining. Now. TIME FOR BED!