What a week!

I bet your wondering what I have been doing this week since I haven't blogged once. I have had a frustrating couple of days to tell the truth. I actually think it all started last week, and the knowledge that a few bad days from one week can run into the next is terrifying. To be truthful this past weekend didn't even feel like a weekend because my husband worked a full day on Saturday so it felt like a normal weekday and not a weekend. It's funny how that works. I feel like I'm missing a day when I'm not.
I have been working on my manuscript everyday. That means that I have read it and checked it for things that need changes and of course mistakes like typing errors. I have a bad habit of typing slower than I think which results in my work having missed words. It can make reading a chapter a pain and of course my editing a longer process. The only thing I can think of that's at fault for this habit is my fingers. If I could only type faster, but I think that would require a third hand. I doubt I am going to mutate anytime soon so I am stuck filling in missing words. The editing process can be frustrating and can leave you feeling overwhelmed, or at least I do when I see the tower of pages piled up on my clipboard.
That's the start of my week, feeling frustrated because of edits and because my weekend was messed up. Now lets team that with car frustration and frustration at my husband and you have my week summed up.


When I was driving my boys to school on Monday my car was driving poorly. It felt like my car was wobbling, no joke, my entire car wobbled while I was driving. I knew something was up so after I dropped my boys off at school I checked my tires. I was expecting a low tire or something of that nature. Nope, I had a busted belt in my rear passenger tire. Wires were sticking out like mad ( I actually pricked my fingers on them!) and I had actual rubber missing from my tire!


The first thing I did was call my husband at work to get his help. Should I drive it? Is my spare usable? Where is our car jack? If I can't drive it how will I pick the kids up from school? That's a lot of questions. His response was not what I was seeking, he said "Get over it." Huh? Get over what? This is not an emotional issue, this is an actual physical issue that has safety issues wrapped up in it. I was so mad I could of spit. Get over it my ass. A long story short I borrowed my family's spare care till I could get my tire to a shop to be replaced. Since my husband has been working some wonky hours this week my dad came over to remove my tire last night and to take it to the shop for me. Awfully sweet of him huh?
Well, usually my dad is spot on. He is one of the most brilliant people I know. If something is broke he can fix it, if you need something built he can design it and build it. He's great with numbers and complex math (he got me through algebra II in high school) and he has a way with all mechanical things most people only dream of having. So I thought that him removing a tire would be a quick process, a breeze like when we put brakes on it back in the spring. Nope. Apparently my lug nuts really liked where they were at and decided to stay on. We tried 3 different tire irons and lubricating the offending lug nut, but it all was for naught. My dad is usually a cool level headed guy, he's a fairly laid back fellow and I have only seen his temper displayed a few times. Now given those few times were scary as hell. Trust me you do not want to witness it or be the person that inspired it.
So when he marched to his truck and started digging in his tool box after 45 minutes of battling with the lug nut I knew that poor little stubborn lug nut was about to meet it's maker.
One socket, and large piece of thick steel chauffeured that lug nut to auto parts heaven. My dad placed the socket on the lug nut then whacked it 4 times with the steel and the lug nut broke. I don't mean it cracked and that was it, oh no, this lug nut splintered into pieces. I'm not sure what was more frightening the fact that my dad pretty much shattered a lug nut that was made to withstand torque or that he was completely silent while he did it. No grunting as he swung the steel, no cheer of relief when the lug nut met it's demise. Only silence until he placed the steel and socket back into his truck's tool box. Yep, he was pissed. I hate to say it but I think my bad week bled off onto my dad. Is a bad week contagious? Can it be spread like a bad cold? I think so, this incident is my proof.


One trip to the local tire place and one trip to the auto parts store later I had a tire replaced. I'm still driving the family's spare car because I don't think it's safe to drive with a missing lug nut with my bad luck running rampant this week even though my dad insists that he has drove with only 3 lug nuts before. We had to special order me a replacement lug nut because it's a special size. In order to assure that I will never have to worry about driving a lug nut short again I ordered several extras.
My dad's temper eased before he left for the tire shop. One hug was all it took and he was back to being my sweet brillant dad that I would give my kidney to if he needed it. Which is wonderful. I hate to see him in a mood and I was hoping that it would transfer my bad luck back to me.
So that leads me to today. So far my bad luck hasn't shown itself. I am hoping that it's over. Also on a good note through all of this frustration and drama I somehow managed to complete my manuscript edits. Yep, I am done with the hard part. Now all I have to do is input the changes into my laptop and print it out and read it.
There's today's lesson. Even though life will happen, and it always will, you still need to make time to work on your book. Even if it's just for 30 minutes a day that's something. If your going to be somewhere idle for a bit, like say your waiting in the car rider line at school take your manuscript with you to work on. Some work is better than no work. Life will happen and your novel still requires your time and effort. A good writer writes about life, and excellent one writes with life.