I know I will not be the first woman to say this but I am pretty sure I am missing a gene. You know the one, the one that means you enjoy shopping. Either I was born without it, lost it one day in error or perhaps it passed via the process known as osmosis into my husband’s body one night as we lay in bed.
If I have any more genes left which want to migrate, they are apparently going to have to find another method from now on. This morning as Archie lay at my feet, my husband came back to bed after getting up to stretch his legs at some ungodly hour. I snuggled up to him and lay there for a few minutes enjoying the warmth.
There was a stirring, a stirring from the bottom of the bed and the covers started to move, like the water along a shoreline which had been disturbed by a passing ferry. Lucy, who had been asleep under the covers at the foot of the bed, had detected something which irritated her puritan sensibilities. She moved up the bed and wedged herself deliberately between me and her dad like a two foot hot water bottle. Many years I used to have a cat who did that if I had gentlemen callers visiting, except the cat purred while he did it. No purring from Lucy, just grim determination to create a gap and fill it with her body. Perhaps I should have called her Chastity. Either way, it was just as well I didn’t choose Hope when picking her name.
Today was going to be jam packed – well relatively jam packed. My assignment is due on Sunday and after having finished the first draft on Thursday night, I re drafted last night and finally saved it at 11.30pm. It was getting there, but something weird had happened and during editing it had grown from 1500 words to 1900. The limit is 1500 plus or minus 10 percent, or 1650. I had to lose a bunch of words.
So my second task this morning after walking the dogs was to get pruning. I had slept on it and so was able to pick up a few typos and as I knew I had been padding when I first wrote it, It was not too hard to pull a Stephen King. I am not talking about getting blocked by Trump on Twitter, I don’t follow him, I am talking about getting rid of all the adverbs. Nice tip, Mr King there were a terrifying number as it happened and I re-selected my verbs as I went.
By midday I was pretty much back down to the word limit and had tightened up the writing a bit as well so decided to save it as the final draft. There is still time to make changes, but nothing feels quite as good as browsing to a file location, uploading a document and hitting the SUBMIT button. If I need to, I can overwrite it tomorrow, but for now I am sitting with a glass of wine celebrating the over-ness of that horrorshow ride. It was, of all the assignments I have done so far, the worst and the poorest in quality and now I am nearing the bottom of the first glass of wine I have had in months, I find I do not care, even though I may care when I wake up tomorrow with a thumping headache.
The assignment finishing meant that we were late getting to the shops and instead of them being quieter because everyone had gone off to do whatever normal people do on a Saturday afternoon, the shopping centre was mobbed. Apparently shopping is what normal people do on a Saturday afternoon. It is also what crazy people who walk around in large clumps together like to do. It was not a good experience, although my husband seemed to enjoy himself and spent almost twenty minutes selecting some lamb chops apparently oblivious to the hoardes of people swarming around him as he did so. But that is another tale for another blog. For now, I am going to sit back, finish the last sip of this wine, order a new glass and let my mind switch off for an hour or so.