To my terror, our heat broke last night. Well, not broke, but it kind of tried to kill us, so we decided to keep it off until we could get a professional to come out and talk it down. I went to bed wearing my man's wool socks and aviator-chullo-wolf hybrid hat.
Despite the setback, I woke up this morning feeling less sick than I have all week and decided to take advantage of it by cleaning the house early so I could get to my aforementioned writing sess. I even went and met J (the bf) for lunch because, by jove, there were SO MANY hours in the day!
I returned home to the cold (and the shivering little monkey dog), but even that couldn't deter me from my newfound tenacity to write like a motherfucker. Two of my best friends were coming over later in the day, but I had time before they'd arrive. It would just make the sweet victory of following through even more sugary. Oh, and the HVAC guy? He'd be pulling in my driveway annyyyyy minute, so I could relax, watch some telly, and know that every little thing was gonna be alright.
I was almost all the way through Glee (WHAT IS THIS SHOW EVEN?! JUST STOP.) before I realized that the appointment with the HVAC dude was well overdue. I frantically texted J to see where the hell this guy was. No one had been driving by, at least not between shitty musical numbers, and panic started setting in as I realized my perfect plan was being slowly poisoned by a stranger. I waited a while longer before giving in to the overwhelming depression I felt about losing my hour of writing.*
While I was halfway through a glass of super flat Dr. Pepper and even more than halfway out of my chair, J texted to let me know the renewed time of our HVAC appointment. It was too late for me to redeem my lost time and my friends were arriving at any minute. With the help of a SERIOUSLY TIME-CHALLENGED HANDYMAN, I self sabotaged myself... again.
Of course, I soon forgot about my despair when my lovely ladies showed up and made me laugh. My bf came home and kissed the anguish away. The delectable dinner that followed truly and fully erased my memory, thanks to a semi-food coma. I was completely numb to the horrendous error of the day until I laid my head down to sleep.
I instantly was wide awake and the writing fiasco came crawling back into my memory like an injured fawn. I jumped up, ran to my computer, and knew I had to tell my story. Oh, and in doing so, I got my hour of writing in. (I was also unfortunately reminded of why "Roadhouse," even with the Swayze touch, should never be endured..... even on mute.)
So, yeah. Never give up, never surrender.
P.S. If you're wondering about the rest of my October gonnas, they're on the way. I'm editing video tomorrow!
P.P.S. Happy 100 posts to me!
* See: Hyperbole and a Half's most recent entry, specifically this photo.