Why does everything happen on Monday?

 

It’s been that kind of a Monday. I was behind before I ever started. Partly work issues, partly domestic. On the work front, I belong to a couple of online groups that prod you to check in with your plans and goals for the week. It’s a good way to keep focus, but it also means, at least me, that I should respond to some of the posts. Plus midway through posting about my upcoming week, I came to a startling decision: I’m stressing over Helen Corbitt, and it’s time to back off a bit. So tomorrow I’m going to wrap up the chapter I’ve been working on and then take a vacation—a week or more—and work on the upcoming Irene novel. Just for a change of pace.

I guess a lot of people feel that “start the week off right” syndrome, because I seem to always have a lot more emails to deal with. Plus right now, I’m deluged with political posts and solicitations. That are a lot of people, nationwide, that I wish I could support financially but I can’t, so I end up feeling guilty over them. I used to think I should just support those who represent me, but I’ve learned a a twofold lesson: the elected officials who count me as a constituent, don’t represent my thoughts or approaches to government, and it’s more important for me to support like-minded individuals in other districts and states. We’re all in this big boat together, ant it’s truy in danger of sinking.

And this morning my Canadian daughter and I got into an email political discussion, sparked by a NYTimes article she sent me. We basically agree, but we have different approaches—I like to say she’s the cynic, while I’m Pollyanna. At any rate, it took several emails for us to sort that out, plus she was reporting on their recent trip to Scotland. She keeps calling it the “trip of a lifetime,” and I can agree, because that’s how I feel about my one trip to the Highlands.

So it was 11:30 before I turned to the Helen Corbitt project and realized that what I wanted to write today didn’t fit where I thought it did. And realized I was temporarily burned out.

An interview with me was scheduled to post this morning on C. M. Mayo’s monthly post about Texas books—but it didn’t. When I inquired, she said she never got it. I couldn’t find it on my computer. Panic! But I did find it in the file for the Waggoner book, The Most Land, the Best Cattle: The Waggoners of Texas. But when I started to send my answers, I realized I hadn’t finished it. I must have started, gotten distracted, and put it aside—and forgotten. Usually I mark such on my calendar, including where the file is. Not this time. So I frantically finished the interview and sent it off—almost missed my nap. It will post first thing tomorrow, and I’ll share if anyone is interested.

On the domestic front, Sophie and I are having a war. I called the vet because she’s still wheezing and sounds awful; he prescribed a new medication. I gave her two pills buried in canned dog food. She ate around the pills. Then I tried cottage cheese.e She ate around the pills and left a few curds in the dish. Zenaida suggested “smashing” them, so I did that tonight—you can see yellow flakes, and Sophie has refused to touch her dinner, yet I know she’s hungry. I’m undecided between trying something else and waiting her out. I have explained that the pills will make her better, but she is unmoved.

To add to my day, our favorite a/c repairman came at 5:30. Now I’m not complaining, because I know how fantastically lucky I am that he came the day I called, even when I said it isn’t an emergency. The unit was working but not at full capacity, not putting out as much cold air as it should. Two hours of his time, and it’s working beautifully.

Zenaida was here this morning and left the cottage looking spic and span, so it was discouraging to have Donald, the a/c guy, clean the indoor part of the mini split and spread dirt on the floor. He did carefully move furniture out of the way and clean up after he was through. But I never concentrate as well when Zenaida is here—in such small quarters we are on top of each other. And she teaches me things about housekeeping that I’ve never learned in all my years, from spotting clothes to crushing dog pills (not her best one) and restoring stained pots and pans. Today, she completely straightened and organized my hall closet. It’s so neat and orderly! I am challenging myself to keep it that way.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a day with fewer interruptions. Tonight I did read the three and a half chapters I have on the next Irene novel, so that I’m ready to hit it tomorrow.

How about you? Are Mondays different from other days?