Sometimes things roll along so well that I wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. Usually, just about the time I get comfortable and complacent, it all falls in the toilet.Today is that day. I spent hours yesterday wondering how I was going to print the manuscript - which is all on the Mac - since some of the pages are in Excel and my pc does not have Excel and so refuses to even print Excel files. I spent many many more hours yesterday hand-drawing charts for the book and rubbing my forehead and questioning my sanity in saying "Oh, yes, I can write a book in four months, no problem.". Because I am an idiot. All I really need to do is make the charts on the laptop, and then maybe, oh, I don't know, LOAD THE PRINTER SOFTWARE onto the laptop, connect it to the printer and PRINT everything??
What is it? PMS? Too much Sweet Cowgirl Party? Plain old stupidity?? ALL OF THE ABOVE!?!?!
Then an email comes this morning from a very patient but confused woman asking about a chart in a pattern I wrote ages ago. I take a quick look and panic. This is huge! Glaring errors! I will have to rewrite the entire pattern....no. I have a plan. How about if I send it all to Persnickety and beg. She's good with numbers. Well, I am obviously an IDIOT. Turns out, my math is not bad, just my
chart. If it were not for Persnickety today I would be in my tub pulling my hair out by the roots. The manuscript is due FRIDAY. FRIDAY. That's 72 hours. Seventy Two. Like 48 plus 24. Like 24 plus 48. Like three days, three tiny short days. AND it's going to snow. AND the socks are not blocked. AND, and - and - and...oh, just AND.
In a few months when it all settles down, and I say "I want to write another book!" someone please - anyone - HIT ME, hard. Smack my head. Tell me no, say something like "What, are you STUPID!?!?!?!". Better yet, just smack me now and miss the Christmas rush.