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Well maybe not so glamorous…
6.30 a.m. Monday morning. I’ve
already been up for more than an hour, because for
some strange reason my body clock has adjusted itself
and I cannot sleep far beyond 5 a.m. these days (possibly
panic due to impending deadline?).
In that time I have (a) tidied the downstairs, (b)
thrown some disinfectant into the downstairs toilet
in my half-hearted quest for germ annihilation, and
(c) washed and put away the dishes. Despite the fact
that I bribed The Teenagers (as I collectively refer
to my two children) to wash the dishes after dinner
last night, the dirty crockery pile has once again
mysteriously bred like crazy overnight. Where do they
come from? Where?
I really must get the dishwasher
fixed…soon.
But whilst in that state of
half-awake limbo where actions are performed on autopilot,
I have had an epiphany moment for the new book. It
will include the theft of garden gnomes, superglue
and…dishwashers!
I just don’t know the how, yet…
I ignore the layer of dust on the hardwood floor and
the unvacuumed rugs, and make a mental note to remind
The Teenagers about the function of (a) the vacuum
cleaner, and (b) dusters.
I wake up The Teenagers, reminding Teenager #2 that
yes, he does have to take a shower before school. But,
he explains, Teenager #1 is now in the shower and she
will be ages and ages.
I sigh, and go back downstairs to make tea for myself
and for Oh Patient One, my husband. I also make toast.
I will eat breakfast whilst checking Internet news
sites for interesting stories which I might be able
to use in the book, thereby killing two birds with
one stone. Excellent plan!
Teenager #1 has beaten me
to the Internet computer, but at least Teenager #2
will have time for that shower…
7.45 a.m. The Teenagers leave
for school, but not before we solved the Panic of
the Missing Homework (Teenager #2), and the Panic
of the I Need a Check for $25 for the School Trip
Right Now (Teenager #1). Plus, Teenager #1 doesn’t feel too good. She
tells me that she’ll be okay—she doesn’t
want to miss school. Oh Patient One kisses me, bids
me to write many pages (he lives in hope of early retirement)
and trundles off to work.
I take my shower and pull
on comfy old sweats. No one is going to see me, anyway.
I scrape back my still-wet hair, and diligently apply
face cream. "Wrinkle" is
not a word I want to talk about any time soon…
9.30 a.m. 3 pages so far.
Hurrah! Today is going to be a good one! Think I’ll just try for one more
page before I put a load in the washing machine…oddly,
my next scene includes (a) garden gnomes, and (b) a
dishwasher. I’m still working on the Superglue
Angle…
9.35 a.m. Telephone rings.
I reach for the wireless phone in my office, but
then remember that one of The Teenagers borrowed
it a while ago, and it is now lost forever. I dash
downstairs to the kitchen phone. It’s
a telemarketer, of course.
Distracted by bronze donations
of fifteen dollars, I remember my earlier intention
to check for possible Internet articles. I find an
old story about a Mrs. Layne (89), who passed away
childless and left her entire estate, worth approximately
a million dollars, to her cat Tinker (circa eight).
I read another story about a cat that reached the
ripe old age of 33. This cheers me enormously, and
as I wish Tinker a long and happy life I wonder how
I can use it…
10.15 a.m. I head back upstairs
to work. Two paragraphs later, the telephone rings
again. So again, I dash down to the kitchen to answer
it because, of course, I forgot to bring it upstairs
with me. It is the school nurse. Teenager #1 feels
sick and can I collect her right now? Instant feelings
of bad-motherly guilt for having let her go to school
in the first place. Fortunately, it is winter. This
means that all I have to do to make myself presentable
is to put a hat over my hair, a long coat over my
shabby sweats…and a bit of
lipstick on my mouth.
11 a.m. Teenager #1 now ensconced on sofa with comforter,
pillows, TV remote and hot drink. I am back in my office
working on The Superglue Angle.
12.30 p.m. Teenager #1 is feeling worse. I call the
doctor and, thank goodness, there is a free appointment
if we can be there in half an hour. I change my sweats
for proper clothes, and bundle Teenager #1 into the
car. Doctor diagnoses strep throat. Next stop the pharmacy.
2 p.m. Arrive home and apply TLC to Teenager #1, before
I go back to work.
2.30 p.m. My mother calls
me to remind me that it is Mother’s Day in England on Sunday. Why it
can’t be Mother’s Day on both sides of
the Atlantic at the same time is a mystery to me, but
I make a mental note to buy cards.
3.15 p.m. There is a knock
at my office door, and it is Teenager #2. "What?" I ask him, totally
distracted, because I’m right in the middle of
a scene. He has brought me a cup of tea. I push my
keyboard aside and we chat about his day.
4 p.m. Another knock at my
office door. Teenager #2 has Jujitsu practice and
cannot find a clean outfit to wear…
From 5 until
6.30 I devote
myself to slapdash domesticity as I (a) transport
Teenager #2 to and from dojo, (b) go to the supermarket
for luxury items such as bread and milk, (c) call
past the garage to pump air into one of my tires...suspect
I have a slow flat…
8.00 p.m. Dinner is over. Teenager #1 is feeling a
bit better, which is good news. Teenager #2 offers
to wash dishes, which is lovely. Oh Patient One had
his usual busy day at work and is just arriving home.
As he eats dinner we chat and catch up on the day,
and I whine about my latest sticky plot point. He solves
it for me instantly!
9.00 p.m. I still haven’t caught up on e-mail,
but Teenager #2 is doing vital homework research on
the Internet computer and will be at least another
hour…at least he’s not playing Internet
war games.
Oh Patient One and I retire to the living room with
a glass of Shiraz, and a Lord of the Rings DVD.
10 p.m. Am so tired I cannot keep my eyes open even
to watch Orlando Bloom killing Orcs, so Oh Patient
One and I retire upstairs.
Just as I am on the verge
of sleep, I realize that I forgot to buy those Mother’s Day cards. Tomorrow,
I’ll do it tomorrow…right after I get
the slow flat fixed, and make an appointment to get
my dishwasher mended…
But in between everything,
I wrote ten pages. And I also know how I’m
going to solve the Superglue Angle. I also know how
Tinker the millionaire cat will fit in…
All in all, not a bad day.
 To
find out about Michelle's current trials, tribulations
and successes, visit her blog.
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