I'm back. The "squeaky clean" copy of "All That Glitters" has been emailed to Awe-Struck. I have maintained my breakneck pace with the manuscript as well as a full load of patients. Actually, I had a record 10 cancellations last week, so I was able to really push the hours and get "Glitter" sent back out ahead of schedule.
My last stint involved spending most of the afternoon and the entire evening on Tuesday in my office. Finally, I Winzipped the file and went to bed at 12:30AM on Wednesday morning. I got through the day in pretty good shape, except I had a terrific desire for coffee about 3PM. But oh, when I came home that evening. I recognized the fact that I was not as young as I used to be, and that this older me just doesn't have the stamina after the event that the younger me did. I used to party until 5:00AM, lay on my bed and get up at 7:30AM when I lived in Paris. Of course, I was barely 19 years old at that time, but who's counting? And certainly I'm not going to give myself an excuse for the fact that I couldn't even function after about 8PM Wednesday evening. I sat trying to force myself to complete the last note for my patient, and I just couldn't do it. Accepting defeat, I went to bed.
This morning I felt a lot better. I had another full day. Completed it. Ate dinner. Took the dog to the park, although neither of us had enough enthusiasm to go around it twice.
On my return home, I heard water running. The defunct connection for an icemaker that no longer exists had broken open and was spewing water all over the kitchen. My first instinct was to panic and run around like a chicken with my head cut off. Then I decided it might be better to turn off the water. There's no shut-off valve in this old kitchen, so off I went, back down the stairs, across the yard and to the main shut-off valve in the front.
The handle came off in my hand. The water was still running--I could hear it. Back up the stairs I went (all 18 of them,) into the kitchen, where I now had the water jetting into a bucket. I had to take all my pots and pans off the baker's rack, the TV and the coffee canisters. Then I dragged the rack forward, grabbed the offending hose, kinked it and tied it off with a rubber band.
Then I called my landlord's son and now he's working on getting everything repaired either tomorrow or Saturday. I even got things arranged so my son can come in and sit with the repairman/plumber. I washed all the pans and rearranged the kitchen, did a load of washing because I used all my old bathtowels to mop up the 2 or 3 inches of water on the kitchen floor. I dragged all the mats outside to drip dry.
Now I'm behind on my paperwork again, and I never scheduled a patient I am supposed to see by Saturday.
There's only so much one person can do in a day.
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