Skip to main content

Not Able to Focus on Much

A sick child at home this week has made me unable to focus on anything much including work. Tropical storm Isaac teased rain for a few days before he actually delivered and there were tornado warnings issued in the evening and overnight hours. That is never comforting to wake up to hear first thing in the morning. 

I have trouble focusing when my kid's father sleeps because you can hear him snoring outside and he refuses to go to bed during the day. Instead he sits in the living room, a few feet from my computer and snores I do believe it's because he knows and I cannot think over it and he's trying to cause problems. He has yet to understand that his check doesn't even cover gasoline expenses yet he gets to live worry free at times causing me so much stress the urge to choke him to death shake the hell out of him is too strong to resist. 

I have been sick as well, and the appearance of a rather short deadline (which I happened to miss twice) put me in a panic. I am glad that I can finish the project to get paid......but I do not like the particular set up. I was in a real panic when I thought my book was lost but once again I managed to get it back.

Well, I got part of it back, I lost almost half of it. The good news is that I have additions to add that will make up for some of it and part of the lost words are in the notebook I began writing the book in. I will be buying a stronger notebook to start the next book in and not typing any of it until I'm complete. I may just start working in the bedroom provided I can shut it off and make it cold as ice in there. 

OK in the meantime, I got to get back to work provided I can find the sources that I had earlier. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Flash Fiction: Irrational

The old house had to be up to code in less than a week. The wiring was fried, and the walls were crumbling. Demolition seemed to be the only answer but the irrational woman that had hired him insisted that it had to be fixed. It seemed she had a strange attachment to this pile of rotting lumber. The week passed and the house was no where near ready. She came in slamming doors leaving piles of rubble in her wake as the fragile walls gave way. Cracks in the foundation widened as she continued the tirade until the ceiling came down on her. In the mist of dust and debris someone heard a fading whimper as she expired with the house she loved so. Why is she so insistent that the house be fixed instead of simply demolishing it and starting over? Is it fitting that her end came with the end of the house? The word is irrational and this post comes in at 125 of the 150 word limit. Vist M3 for official rules and word list. Visit Redmund Productions to pick up the serious and rememb...