It sure didn't start out looking promising. I plunged a clogged toilet, drove my son's medicine to school and filled out forms so he'd be allowed to take it, then drove home to start urging MIL to get ready for physical therapy at the Adult Day Center. She took her usual 45 to get ready, but we didn't even make it out of the driveway before she began getting sick to her stomach and started to throw up. Fortunately for my car upholstery, I had a hip replacement late last year, and now I'm allowed to run when absolutely necessary. I grabbed a trash can and in due time, had her return to bed for the day. The morning was half gone, I'd done nothing yet, and was getting frustrated.
MIL stayed in bed most of the day, and maybe because I felt such pressure not to waste the day, I was able to concentrate and did some great revising. I found lots of places where I could tighten up the prose, several opportunities I'd missed to build characters, and a few rather stupid plotting mistakes. Makes me wish I was a short story writer.
Monday, May 11, 2009
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