As the Writing Turns

Does your life ever feel like a soap opera? Mine, too. But not so much this last week. More like a bad comedy. I write in my office downstairs in my house. Last week, in the morning (of course) the smoke detector on the ceiling outside my office began to chirp ever 30 seconds or so. Loudly. Closing my office doors did nothing to help. The unfortunate thing is that the ceilings are really high in the house and I needed a ladder to change the battery. Unfortunately, neither of the two ladders we have were accessible to me without doing damage to myself. Since I figured a trip to the hospital would be far more aggravating than the the chirping, I tried to put music on to cover it (fail!) and kept going. Later I decided that maybe the hospital trip would have been worth it.

So the very next day (no, the cat didn’t come back) I’m in my office working, with my daughter home sick, and I hear, you guessed it, another chirp! This time is was the smoke alarm in my bedroom, which is upstairs and around a corner. It echoed. Same problem as before, so I thought, shut the upstairs door. That should take care of it. Sadly, those things are much louder than probably the alarm itself. I couldn’t get away with closing my office doors because my daughter wanted to be able to shout for me if necessary, so again music, but not so loud I couldn’t hear the girlie, which meant I could hear the chirping loud and clear, All. Day. Long.

Vexed. Vexing. Both. A word not used enough but really, so perfect.

Now I’m in blissful quiet. Maybe I’ll actually make serious progress today.

In other news of the slightly odd, I discovered that Fred Meyers, a local grocery/everything-else-on-the-planet store has a tradition black Friday sale on socks. And I can’t be there. Now this probably wouldn’t excite other people, but the Boy of Size, who is only 15 years old, wears size 13 shoes. Did I mention he has yet to have a growth spurt? Anyhow, finding socks for him isn’t easy. Especially quality socks that don’t fall apart in two washings. So this week I meet a friend in the FM Starbucks to talk knitting and writing, and after decided to glance around the sock aisle. And found socks for him. Which cost $15 for three pairs. Ouch. This makes the Black Friday sale look beguiling, since it’s a 50% off all socks sale. Only I can’t go this year, because of Thanksgiving plans. Damn! I could have stocked up for the entire big-footed family that we are.

I also combed out the dogs this weekend and trimmed doggy toenails. Viggo lost an entire dog’s worth of hair. WTF? It’s November. Why is he shedding? I’m still getting hair tumbleweeds around my kitchen from him. Voodoo, on the other hand, was in it just for the tummy combing. He would only lay on his back with his legs splayed out in sexy play-dog fashion, and rolling him over was next to impossible.

I finished a book that I’m trying to decide if I really liked or not. You know how it is when the book is a page turner because you want to know what happened, but not necessarily because the writing’s good or the characters are engaging? This one had some serious ups and downs, but the mystery was good and decently complex. I’ll probably review it here soon. Along with a bunch of others I’m behind on.

And now, my friends, must go scribble some more. I hope you are all happy, healthy, and safe.

One Comment

  • Readerdiane

    The week of the sale the prices on socks drop-not as much as Black Friday but enough to make it worth a trip in to the store.

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