The Balm of Rescue Dawn

Welcome to my week from hell.

Monday dawns and it is time to start revisions. I am about to jump in the shower but first hop on the scale. Wait...what? I squint at the numbers. Jump off and get back on. They stay the same. It appears a few extra pounds had decided to attach themselves onto my body somewhere (probably in the vicinity of my ass). Great. Lovely. Welcome to the week. Sigh.

I shrug it off and decide to dive into revisions. It proves slow going. I need to cut 50 pages, but where? A little frustrated that nothing jumps out and says ‘cut me’ in the first few chapters, I head off to work. There I suffer through the annoyance of a co-worker who seems determined to drive me to drink. At lunch, I pop onto the web and view my library account. I have a DVD overdue. Crap. I console myself with the fact that come the end of the day I will be on my way to the theatre with Julia to see Rescue Dawn for the second time. Yay! The movie was just what the doctor ordered, and every bit as good the second time as it was the first. Monday redeems itself on a high note.

Tuesday I step on the scale. The odious pounds are still there and I’m pretty sure they invited a friend or two. I wonder if humidity could cause water to retain in my cells and thereby expand the size of my ass. I should have paid more attention in science class. I am about to start my revisions when it hits me—I am supposed to meet with my critique partner on Thursday. Which means I have to send her the last installment of Brimstone this morning. I do that before I start into the revisions. Revisions go slow again. No major cuts. Argh.

Another day, another dollar. My neck is sore from being hunched over the computer all day and sometime between 9:00 and 5:00 I realize not only do I need to finish knitting the baby hat for my cousin’s shower on Saturday, but I also need to knit two more baby hats for a friend before the end of the week which I had forgotten about. Great. More things to do this week. Lovely. While I’m chastising myself for bad time management, I sort through the next few days and try to figure out how I am going to knit 3 hats and critique 24 pages for my CP. It doesn’t look good. To make myself feel better, I go on line and order a copy of the Harsh Times DVD, an independent movie Christian Bale did between Batman Begins and Rescue Dawn. Nothing like retail therapy and CB to brighten the day. Fired up, I finish the first baby hat.

Wednesday. Stupid @#$% scale. The revisions are going. That is about all. Still no major cuts to be found. Wonderful. I pack up my knitting and head to work. I spend the day working on rent rolls, hunched over my computer until my spine begins to atrophy. I haven’t walked in five days thanks to rain, high temperatures and hideous amounts of humidity that would have me passing out by the time I hit the first corner. I’m wondering if this day could get any worse.

But wait, it isn’t quite so hot today. I manage a walk after work and pick up my mail. And what is there only 24 hours after ordering? Harsh Times. And finally my entries from the Windy City contest! Oh happy day! Oh happy, happy—

What? I look at the final judges scores. They are less than stellar. Not bad exactly, even perhaps respectable, but yet...I glance at the numbers again as if somehow staring at them long enough will somehow get it into my brain just why they gave me said numbers. There are three sheets, three sets of scores, but only one set of comments from one of the judges. They are somewhat helpful, and a whole lot disheartening. There is still work to be done. More than I had anticipated. And little direction other than a number which could mean anything, everything or even nothing. One didn’t even like my title.

I consider finding a dark hole and crawling in.

But it is Wednesday. And Wednesday means it is movie night. Maxx and I are off to see Rescue Dawn. She for the first time, me for the third. I grab my keys and go. I get my times screwed up and am late. Late. Me. Miss Notoriously Punctual to the Point of Irritating. Maxx razzes me for not being on time. I try to bite my tongue with only moderate success. No point taking out my bad mood on her. And after all, I was late. Not much I can defend there. Luckily we still had time for her to get popcorn and catch the coming attractions.

It’s been a crappy week so far, a definite come down from the high on Saturday of finishing the second draft. Reality is a harsh mistress.

The opening credits role. Screw reality, I decide. It’s highly overrated anyway. I settle in and get lost in the fantasy and once again all is right with the world.