Ah. Monday. I am up even earlier than usual, so I can head to the West Bank to be there when my dealership opens. It’s too much to hope that they’ll be able to sell me a new tire and put it on my car in time for me to be there for our first client at nine, but fingers are crossed; this is what I am hoping against hope to be my reality today. Yesterday I went out and looked at the tire again, and saw that it had gone flat again overnight–or almost completely flat, the way it was yesterday before the air and the tape were applied. Heavy sigh. Have it towed in the morning, then take an Uber to the office and then an Uber to the dealership when it was ready? And of course, I couldn’t contact the dealership because they aren’t open on Sundays. And then I remembered…
Moron, you had to get full coverage insurance when you financed this car. And you never scaled the insurance back since you paid it off…so, full coverage insurance comes with roadside assistance.
So I went into the app, and ordered roadside service to change the tire for me. He took ten minutes to get here, another ten to change the tire; and he even aired up the donut, which had lost air the last time I used it (back in January). It was so easy. I could have done that yesterday morning (had I known) and spent my morning on the West Bank replacing the tire. But I didn’t run errands yesterday until later in the day–after everything was closed. And usually I run the errands around noon, because the mail has been delivered and put out at the post office by then. So, clearly doing things the way you’ve always done them isn’t necessarily a rut; sometimes it’s a good thing and it’s changing things up that turns out to be the real problem. Heavy sigh. Maybe I should stick to the rivers and the lakes that I’m used to, instead of chasing waterfalls.
But at least buying a new tire (and knowing I’ll need two more at some point; I think I’ll go ahead and start planning on that for around my birthday, or after I get back from Bouchercon in San Diego) isn’t going to break the bank nor require me to dip into our savings. I can actually absorb the cost without having to worry about it too much, so that’s a really good thing, and one that makes me rather happy. I am feeling much better about life in general these days, which is a good thing. I don’t feel like I have a weight pressing down on my spine anymore, and the brain fog I’d been experiencing a lot of since Mom died seems to have lifted; even if it’s temporary, I am very grateful for this brief respite I’ve had for the last few days.
I also decided to reread the prologues to the Scotty books before digging back into the new one, and along with the distance gained since the last time I reviewed and/or looked at this has been an enormous help. I now know what’s been missing from this manuscript, and it’s Scotty and his sense of humor; his way of looking at everything as a challenge to be handled rather than a blow to his life. And what I put him through in Royal Street Reveillon was a lot…so it would be normal for him to not be his usual self at this time…but the whole point of him is that nothing gets him down; “life doesn’t give you anything you can’t handle; it’s how you handle it that matters” is his motto. So yes, what happened during the course of the last book could have shaken him up a bit, but he’s not the type to stay down for long. It’s the joy that is missing from the book; that sense of “we can handle anything and still stay positive” is what connects readers to him. I guess it’s not a surprise that at the time I was writing the book it wasn’t easy for me to channel joy, given the real life situation(s) I was dealing with at the time; be kinder to yourself is a mantra I need to keep reminding myself of, and yes, writing a Scotty book in the midst of crushing depression and trying to revise it while grieving wasn’t really the smart thing to do.
So here we are, with me up before the crack of dawn with the dark pressing up against my windows and knowing I am going to be exhausted by the time this day ends. Not an auspicious start to the week, eh? But that was the flat (I kept going outside yesterday after the tire was changed to see if the spare had gone flat, and the last time I looked it was fine. Those little spares always make me terribly nervous.) I am taking a couple of Scottys, crammed into my back pack, with me to reread the beginnings to try to get the voice and mentality right for this final revision. I hate burning some of my paid time off this way, but what choice do I have, other than driving around on the spare until Friday or Saturday morning? That’s one of the things that has always mystified me about the work day, you know? Everyone works the same hours, basically, or close to them; which means workers always have to take time off from work to do anything–dentist, doctor, car repair, etc. I also get that everyone has the goal of working nine to five or an approximation thereof; but doesn’t it seem like it would make sense for some doctors or dentists or whomever would work later hours? We used to always have evening testing hours at the office to accommodate people’s work shifts; you could come get tested after work on your way home, or on your way out to dinner to meet friends. We also had weekend hours, and tested in bars or places of business–wherever people at high risk of infection gathered. We brought the testing to them….and of course I have always preferred non-traditional hours. Heavy sigh. I used to be able to do this kind of thing in the morning before my shift; now I have to take time off.
And on that note, I am going to go get cleaned up and prepared to head to the dealership for the start of a lengthy, incredibly tiresome day. Have a great Monday, Constant Reader, and I will see you again tomorrow.