Adam makes coffee every morning, which I appreciate. What I don’t appreciate is that he never gets the amount right. Some mornings, there’s almost a full pot sitting there at the end of the day. Other days–like this morning–I’m drinking up the dregs trying to eke that third cup out of the pot. The man saw me for a FULL 3.24 minutes this morning. Couldn’t he glean in that time that it was clearly a mega-coffee day? Are you telling me that man can’t read my mind! What’s the point of marriage if he can’t simply intuit how much coffee I require on any given day?
Sigh. Today is a novel day. Not in the “new” sense, but in the “I’m going to finish this damn thing” sense. In the past week, I’ve survived a crying drop-off, two Sukkot parties at our sukkah in the rain (one of which was for Pie’s entire 2nd grade class), my father visiting (yes, Peter, you do require “surviving”; doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy having you), our first Brownie meeting of the year (18 girls!), orthodontists, periodontists (why, yes, I DO have gum surgery in my future, thank you very much), eye doctors, curriculum night, and very little writing. This week will be a little better but I plan on tuning much of the world out while I edit my novel. I took a class at Grub Street on Microediting, and one of the great takeaways is to read your writing out loud because you can hear a lot of problems you can’t see. It’s working beautifully, but I have to tell you, it takes a lot of time–and a lot of tea!–to read a 75,000 word novel aloud. I’m about 1/3 of the way through.
Maybe I need to put another pot of coffee on. If you see my shaking later, know that it’s simply an overdose of caffeine.
It’s small recompense that you had to “survive me” for two days, when I had to “survive you” for 18 years.
Touche.