1. My job has just been advertised within the company - for 8K lower wages and lower status...but with all the same requirements in the workload. So presumably it will remain a shit job, without the consolation of the cash. Such lovely people.
2. One of my oldest friends just had two really awful bits of family news during the same week, and has been understandably upset and snuffly - so her bloke's reaction was to tell her "he needs some space and they should take a break." She is in bits, but at least she has some good friends who are looking out for her.
3. EDY is very very ill with something and won't agree to see a doctor. Aaaaargh! If this continues I will be ordering a house call or frogmarching him to the GP. I am running out of capacity for looking after people, especially if they're not looking after themselves in the first place. Worried sick.
4. I'm off to get crunched about by an osteopath, as the taxi incident on Monday seems to have aggravated an old shoulder and neck injury and given me sciatica. This pain and discomfort is still somewhat preferable to being in the office.
I am aware that my blog is getting grumpier by the day, and will try to have a better day tomorrow.
But on my way in to work this morning I got hit by a bloody cab. He'd pulled up to a stop in a side road, and as I crossed he suddenly decided to accelerate into the oncoming traffic (and me). I managed to slam both my hands onto the bonnet and inform him he was a fucking moron, slightly a la Midnight Cowboy, but - dare I say it - a fair bit cooler and meaner than Dustin H.
I then pulled myself up to the full, nay towering, 5ft 5 and bellowed through the side window that it wasn't his right of way and he should look where he was going.
That told him. I'm a bit scratched and bruised but nothing is broken. I am, however, delighted to find that I've perfectly retained my ability to swear really really well at people who deserve The Wrath.
And speaking of the Scarlet Mist coming down (ethical music lovers), Wifey has managed to get us tickets to see Mogwai tonight at the Royal Festival Hall, so my day can only get better. Bring the noise!
I have managed to get them to give me the leaving date I wanted. End of this month.
[this is progress]
After that I'm going to take a month off and do lots of nice things 'cos I'm all bent out of shape.
What's that, you arsehole god-botherer?
No, stupid o'clock on Saturday morning, especially THIS Saturday morning, is not a good time to try to sell me a motherfucking bastard copy of Watchtower.
Goodbye.
But at least it's a gorgeous sunny day and I am in the unusual position of being completely at leisure, with no obligation to do anything at all...
...on account of handing the book in to the publisher yesterday evening. Yee-haarrr! I have my life back.
So here we are - deadline day.
I have a serviceable second draft which I'm reasonably happy with. Just need to take it home after work, read it through one more time, tinker about a bit, add a 500 word introduction and send it off.
Then it will be time for a mahoosive fuck off round of shots during last orders. And sleep, the sleep of the damned. Saturday morning will not exist, and that's official.
This morning I ended up doing something I swore I'd never do. I worked at my writing desk wearing a dressing gown and slippers for four hours. It's the living end for authors, as far as I'm concerned (think Michael Douglas in Wonder Boys - so not a good look). However you'll be glad to hear that general standards have since been restored.
I'm having a day off work to fill in the last gaps in the book, get a few more quotes and edit the whole thing down. So imagine how lovely it was to find that the flat upstairs had arranged to have their kitchen ripped out and replaced this morning. and they have the worst type of builders - the ones who bellow constantly at one another for no real reason. They could have warned the neighbours, the bastards.
Anyhow, I shall prevail. I mean, I've survived a dose of flu, a cancer scare, and a bunch of family and work bullshit during the writing process already, so unless they come through the ceiling or cut the power to the whole block it will probably be OK.
Note to self: You can't research and write a fact-based quote-filled book of this size in a two-month period if you're fitting it in around a full time job and evening classes. Not without destroying your social life and making yourself waaay too stressed to be healthy. Next time, do the maths, you silly thing.
Once it's handed in I'll soon be in receipt of a small cheque; just enough to buy a lobster dinner, get a couple of decent massages to uncrick my shoulders and lower back, and send myself off to a B&B by the sea for the weekend. Something nice to look forward to, eh?
I'm nearing the end of the first draft, although I have a touch of the zombie about me today. Still, it was worth it.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I had a lovely birthday yesterday, with smashing messages and cards and gifts and especially people, even if I did spend most of it doing research and book stuff. Sadly there was no drunkenness on my part as I think 4,000 (good) words are needed before bedtime today, but next year I promise to throw a proper lairy party of some sort.
So here's the rest of my week in pictures.
I will be mostly doing this:
And drinking so much coffee I turn into this:
And ending up like this:
But soon I will be doing this:
(that's a White Russian in there, I think)
Oh, sorry. That's one from the private collection. Don't know how it got in there.
*cough*
I'm currently working on chapter six of this eight-chapter tome, so the finish line edges ever closer. It will be great to hand the bloody thing over in the next few days. Then I might lie down in a darkened room for a while, to eventually emerge with a thirst for tequila slammers. To be followed by a lie down in a darkened room. Repeat as necessary.
This week might be rather busy, but hopefully there will be a first draft together by Sunday night.
Go on, encourage me.
Poor MissP, hope you have imbibed large quantities of G&T to make up for it. read more
on Ouch, you *%^$£*!!