2002 Story Set
| June 2, 2002 It is Monday, and I have been a good girl. 90% of my bills (all the important ones) were disposed of yesterday, as well as the latest unemployment sheet. I am waiting to get a name for Lockheed, as they might be able to use me. I am also getting ready to register with temp services, once I have the EMG results - and that is scheduled for the 18th. The dermatologist will check all those brown spots that same week, to make sure they are just age spots, damn them all to where ever! So Monday dawned warm and sunny and bright and I fastened myself to the computer. For hours. I am doing the scene crawl for Molly, and moving bits and pieces around so it flows right. It's a Regency along the lines of Gotsford Park - upstairs downstairs, many POVs and the hilarious plant pots. I need to check what each character is up to and how they fit or do not fit against the Earl and his prospective bride, and of course, Molly. I am hip-deep and then take a break. I call Eric, Fabio's manager. and we decide on July 8th. Now he must recheck with Fabio and we are set. I will let Caroline know (who is doing an article) and Pepper (my coach and cheering section). Caroline will fly out to chat with Fabio, so Pepper is helping her pick an outfit and, as a result, Caroline's husband will fly with her! This cracks up my younger son who is after me. He wants to come too. I have already said, only Fabio and I, and the hapless driver, will be in that limo! So, I continue working, because the younger son is still sleeping. I am weary (long hours of typing will do that) but have a good handle so far on what's happening in the story. At 60,000 words, it's always a good idea to know what your characters are doing. I check my son. It is noon. Yep, his lip is infected. I call the doctor and now I must hurry to get him up and drag him in. They do not know if he will be admitted to the hospital until he is seen. It's a cold sore (i.e., herpes) on his lip and he had some trouble talking. Turns out he had also bit his tongue. I shower (fast) and of course, the dishwasher is running. He declines. Snaps and snarls. I give him a drink of V8Splash and run to dress. I have already flung clothes in his general direction. The shoes are missing. I pack, the G4 laptop, three videos, my books, college catalogs because I will take a class soon, some Pasta Anytime and popcorn, some yogurt and some MediFast. I toss in under shorts and a shirt for him, just in case. They call me back. "Bring him in through the infection door. Isolation." Wherever that is. OK. I go to the car, and low and behold, there are his shoes. Left there from last Thursday no less. I call him out, pack it up, and go get gas in the van. We have to pay $2 to get over the bridge since we are out of the carpool hours (what a gyp!). We get there and I decode the directions. We are at the back of the Clinic. I go around to tell him he is there (we also rang the bell). I get a parking pass. They put out a chair. We wait. He has had no food and is crabby. He entertains himself by tossing his hat at me and making me play catch. At one point I sat down - on his lap. I was informed that I shouldn't be there if I wanted grandchildren. The showers I gave him in the hospital, he says, were cold. Ah yes. The smart mouth always follows the crabby one. He continues whacking me with the hat. I toss it back. When he was a baby, he used to toss his ball out of the playpen for me to toss it back. They finally come to bring us in. We are in Room 1, where he gets treatment on occasion. He is still being difficult because he does not want to be there. He prefers to get up at 2PM since he stays up until 3AM. Lovely schedule. They look and peer and use a flashlight. Yep. Another cold sore. I go for coffee and a drink for him while we wait for a second opinion. When I get back, we have the prescription and can walk among the living. We order the prescription and I get to glance at a couple issues of Vogue and finish my coffee. I wonder where the class act designers have gone because this new stuff is trash. We need to check the dosage. He does his drink. And then we can leave. It is now 3:30PM and my afternoon is shot. I tell people that he heard that my date with Fabio was coming up and he was refocusing my attention. I obviously did not cut out the dress for the date today. I shove Pasta Anytime at him once we are home, do my email, and run to Office Depot for paper for the printer. I need to print out a few copies of my resume, the one set for technical typing. I need this should I try to get to the temp agencies up here. Later I must head for ones (agencies) in Mountain View. Yes, Technical Writing it is not up to challenging my capabilities but it beats unemployment. Sort of. |
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