February 12, 2008
One of the reasons I like editing is the rush I get when I sent off a book back to the publisher, along with my invoice. It feels so good to be done with them! A prime example was the HD of the Coptic Church, which unfortunately took 60+ hours instead of the estimated 45—but which I couldn’t just stop, or return having done a half-assed job. But for a couple hours after I returned it this morning, I felt wonderful.
Then I worked on a personal job (Becky’s grandfather’s history), and now I’ve moved on to Managing the Laboratory Animal Facility. I like the variety.
A “quick” trip to Darien this afternoon resulted in a potential jewelry sales contact for Kelly (reading this, are you? IM me!), a couple of books from the library as well as an audiobook for the drive to Myrtle Beach this weekend, a thrift shop that I’d love to spend some more time wandering through, as well as the nursery, the grocery, the Clerk of Court’s office (to turn in Elliott’s jury form), and the Tax Assessor’s office (to turn in the homestead form).
Still on the list is changing the registration for my car, as well as the insurance. One thing at a time. Or maybe it’s ten things at a time!
Yesterday I got the quilting supplies I need to get started. Now all I need is a good movie!
Life is settling into its routines. I think I’m more comfortable with routines, because I know what’s expected. Occasional surprises are okay, but mostly I like that even keel of knowing when I wake up what the day will bring. Such a life is probably boring to most people, but I find it soothing.
Elliott and I had a long (well, it seemed long—though it probably wasn’t more than ten minutes!) conversation this morning. It’s our usual routine to talk while he’s driving to work, and it’s normally about inconsequential things, and is mostly so we can hear each other’s voice. But this morning he was upset about his job and about some mutual friends, and I just feel like he’s so angry all the time. He’s caught in a catch-22, unfortunately, because I don’t react well to anger—growing up, anger resulted in violence, which in my book is to be avoided at all costs—but when he holds it in, then it simmers and he has to express it in some way that probably isn’t all that mentally healthy for him. So he can’t express it and he can’t hide it. Now if only we could figure out a way so that he won’t FEEL it! Best of all worlds.
The gunfire (from Fin & Feathers) is pretty steady this afternoon and poor Daisy is cowering in her doghouse. It’s warm today, so I thought about opening the windows—but the screens would be too big of a temptation for Daisy. She’d barrel right on through one of them trying to escape the noise. She doesn’t seem to have trouble with it if I’m right there, so maybe I should take my work and go out on the deck. I’ve been feeling guilty about not letting her in the house, but between the way he claws would scratch the floors and my (admittedly not quite rational) fear of ticks and fleas, I really don’t want her in. I’m already avoiding the laundry room for that very reason. I can just imagine the conversation: “Why are you wearing that t-shirt for the 6th time this week, Ann?” “Oh,” I’d reply, “there might a flea in the laundry room.” Not good!
I’ve stalled long enough. Time to get back to work.
