Yesterday things started looking up. We cleaned until parts of the house sparkled, all three kids were happy, we got in a little shopping, and I had no aches or pains anywhere. The day was good. I planned on spending the evening yesterday and all day today finishing my edits. I would be ready for NaNoWriMo. Nothing could stop me.
- Babes woke up early this morning with the words, "Mom! I puked!"
- Husband had work problems and stared at a command prompt while mumbling to himself from 5:00 last night until 3:00 this morning.
- I got another headache last night, so I didn't edit one word. And I slept terribly.
As I sat with my little guy this morning, watching Curious George and trying to summon up the energy to start the laundry, it occurred to me that maybe NaNoWriMo is perhaps not realistic for me. There are too many uncontrollable variables in my life. Sure, I can write 1000 or more words in an hour, but the idea that I'm going to find 2 hours a day every day for thirty days in a row is perhaps a little bit ludicrous.
The gods are laughing out loud at me while they conjure up whatever chaos they have planned for me for tomorrow. I'm starting to see the humor in it too.