So, yesterday. Had a lovely breakfast with G, then tried my very best to Get Work Done. Alas, my brain seemed to have already left for vacation. This is unfortunate, as there's still shitload to be done.
However, had back-and-forth emails with Patrick S., mine editor/publisher for DRAGON VIRUS, and paid a lot of bills, and invoiced freelance work done for September, and discussed/tweaked the press release for WEIGHT OF STONE with Erica Madame Publicist, and found all my assorted chargers and cables and put them aside, and bought/downloaded WOLF HALL to read while I'm away, and sorted my euros and pounds to take with me, and reassured the cats, and ordered my pill refill, and made sure that the litter boxes were cleaned and sorted for the arrival of The PetSitter (AKA Gordon). and did my yoga, and made dinner (lemon-ginger chicken w/ sauteed red cabbage), then
uploaded DragonCon photos, and then settled in to watch Inglourious Basterds, which was as brilliant, violent and disturbing as expected.
So that was a good and full day, right? Even if there was no writing?
This morning? Wake to try and check in on-line, only to discover that my flight tonight has been canceled.
Yes, canceled. No word on why or what we are to do.
So I did what any woman of experience will do -- I got on the phone and called OnePass passenger services and asked OMGWTHLLLAMABBQ?
And they said OMGWEDONTKNOW! and booked me on the 6:15 flight that it not, at this point, canceled. Although if I will actually have a seat [considering the # of people who would have to be rebooked] is... unknown.
This could get entertaining. What the hell, I bought trip insurance for my train ticket to Lille, knowing the strike was coming, so if I get booted and rebooked, this too shall be dealt with. The small joys of being a writer -- not only can I work anywhere, but it's all grist for the goddamned mill...
Now where's my goddamned coffee?