OK, so... I still have the head cold from hell. Which had a very negative impact on my work and my weekend. I got proofs in for the US paperback edition of LABYRINTH while I was trying to finish up some work on the boat and also a new synopsis for TV/film stuff. My agent has also been very busy with negotiations for the next set of Greywalker novels. So, naturally, the day I finally get the proofs in hand, I come down with the cold.
I like to say I blame Erin Evans--who was feeling a bit under the weather at Rainforest--but I mostly I say this because I would otherwise have to admit that I got a cold at Ikea and who wants to 'fess up to having a cheap-ass pseudo-Swedish virus that was actually ginned-up in China? But I digress. Or do I?
Anyhow, so while I was contemplating how efficient a proof reader I would be while high on a combination of decongestant, cough-suppressant, antihistamine, and expectorant—complicated by frequent sneezing, snorting, blowing, coughing and narcolepsy—I was supposed to be getting the boat cleaned and gussied up for a wee small party this weekend and trying to figure out how to manage all the rest in the copious spare time I would (not) have, the toilet broke.
Yes. You did read that correctly: the toilet broke. I don't mean the porcelain literally broke; actually I mean that the macerating pump on the electric marine head gave up the stinky ghost. Mr. Kat heroically stayed home for a day to fix it. Sadly, the problem was slightly more complicated than originally believed and so the toilet was not fixed on Thursday as hoped.
By this time (Friday) my head felt like a balloon full of snot and my throat could have stood in for ground beef, judging by the color. It also felt quite remarkably like I'd swallowed something both prickly and hard--a cactus perhaps. And so I regretfully canceled the wee small gathering, and didn't feel too bad since it appeared the weather was going to suck anyhow. And Mr. Kat came home with a sprained ankle. So there we were—the gimp and the simp—watching the last three episodes of "Human Target" Season One on DVD in between staring morosely at A) my paperwork or B) the parts of the toilet strewn around the place.
So Saturday dawned clear warm and nice and stayed that way. Mr. Kat had the "eureka" moment and—in spite of said sprained ankle—got parts and fixed the head by two minutes prior to the originally scheduled starting time for the party. Which we still weren't having because even after you've fixed a marine head, its odor lingers....
Luckily, the combination of Pseudaphed and Mucinex plus Dextramathorphan makes Kat an insomniac and I finished the whole damned proof by 11 pm on Saturday. And we went to bed—once I stopped vibrating—and slept like heroes. Because there is little in life more heroic than triumphing over toilets, let me tell you, and managing 180 pp of proofreading in a single day with or without a head cold that makes you fall over—while still seated.
This morning I scanned in my corrected pages and sent them to my editor. Then I willfully and maliciously did NOT re-write my synopsis, but sat down and finished reading a very wonderful ARC called THIEFTAKER, by one D. B. Jackson, which I am very very excited about. So there!
Sometimes you just have to say "I'm going to read now!" and do it.
I still feel like my head is full of helium-mucus but at least I managed to get the paying job done on time. Now the rest awaits. Til Monday at least.
(cross-posted from My Own Personal Grey)