Tuesdays seem to sneak up on me. This is my day to post. Sometimes I write something ahead of time, but at others I forget and even have had to be reminded. But you must realize I'm way much older than all these other young women authors--anyway that's my excuse.
On Facebook, another author friend said she wanted to be me when she grew up. Reminded me of that commercial where a woman says, "When I grow up I want to be an old woman." Well, I'm there and isn't as much fun as it's cracked up to be.
Oh, yes, there are those who respect me because of my age and even ask for my advice. Then there are the others who suspect I might have one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, as the saying goes.
What makes me the most unhappy is how fast time goes and that I can't accomplish as much as I used to be able to do. The end of last week was a bugger. First, our well water pump quit working. We live in the country and that's the only way we can get water. No water, you don't do the laundry, wash dishes or take showers. Hubby went over to the church and filled up many containers with water so we could at least wash ourselves and had some water to drink.
Finally, on the third waterless day, a new pump and pipes were installed. Took all day though.
To add to this fun, a feral cat sneaked in the house on the first day of this dilemma. (We have three inside cats and way too many feral cats. We've managed to catch two females and have them spayed, but that's all.) This kitty didn't want to be in the house and meowed his displeasure, but do you think we could catch him to put him out? But we did our darndest, running around trying to corner him. He also left us little treasures here and there to clean up--not easy when you don't have a faucet to get water from. The same afternoon, we finally had water, working together, hubby and I managed to steer him toward the door, open it and let him out. (We couldn't just leave it open or the inside cats would've left and no telling how many feral cats would've come in.)
Phew! Then it was shower time. Wonderful. We were supposed to attend a Christmas party that night and I'd even managed to make a dessert to take with us. I looked at my husband and said, "Do you really want to go to that party?"
I read the answer in his expression. "Not really."
We called our regrets, sent the dessert along with our daughter, and we settled ourselves on the couch and watched the last DVD of "The Ladies #1 Detective Agency." Then we went to bed.