Originally published June 15, 2007 at www.butterscotchmartinigirls.com
Yesterday was one of those days where I think I should’ve just stayed in bed. The plan for the day? Get up and write for a few hours, grab a shower, go get my nails done, grab some lunch somewhere that doesn’t mind me sitting and writing, probably hit my favorite Starbucks for several more hours of writing and then off to a Pampered Chef party at my friend, Kathy’s, house. Easy, right?
However, as sometimes happens, the reality was very different. Afterwards, I came home andto check the moon chart to see if it was a full moon. Nope – new moon. So, just one of those days. Damn.
I woke up feeling like I had the third worst hangover of my life. The only problem was, the strongest thing I had was my Starbucks Chai Tea Latte. Not exactly the stuff drunken-sense is made of, let alone something that would leave me in hangover territory. If that wasn’t enough, my left shoulder was killing me, and I felt like I was on the knife’s edge right before I get a migraine. The dh has had some stress migraines lately, so we are out of Immitrex, which meant I had to settle for downing some Excedrin Migraine and heading back to bed. I vaguely remember the dh kissing me good bye and feeling my forehead, which was only a little warmer than usual. Other than that – I was out as soon as I closed my eyes.
Two hours, two needy cats and one telemarketer phone call later, I cracked an eyeball open and decided I’d downgraded to at least the sixth or seventh worst hangover of my life. Improvement! So, I drug my rear out of bed and stumbled into the shower, spending some extra time letting the hot water beat on my mysteriously sore left shoulder. It’s kind of a blur, but since I actually had to be social and go to the Pampered Chef party, I even put on makeup – which those of you who know me know isn’t an every day thing even when I’m feeling great.
As I was getting ready to leave, I found out why my left shoulder was killing me. When I picked up my laptop bag – OUCH! Okay, so I guess carrying around enough supplies to run a small country wasn’t a good plan. I like to always be prepared, but my body was starting to mutiny, so time to clean it out – which basically consisted of dumping everything but the cords out onto the couch and switching to carrying it over the other shoulder. If only I could fix the head and stomach so easily. Apparently they thought we were on a cruise in the middle of the ocean and didn’t take the rest of me.
I had just enough time to grab some light breakfast and head to my nail appointment while trying not to roll down my window and repave the street (that means throw up all down the door of my car for those who haven’t understood that term when I’ve used it in the past…lol.) Lucky for me, there is a Jack In the Box right next to the nail place. And for anyone who has ever beaten back anything that feels even remotely like a hangover, you know a breakfast Jack usually tastes heavenly when you feel like crap. However, fifty other people who looked like they had real hangovers had the same idea. So, instead of waiting behind a line of fourteen cars in the drive-through, I went inside. I recognized a woman who is one of my usual waitresses at The Good Egg who wanted to know how my latest WIP was going, so I stopped to chat, hoping I sounded like I knew what I was talking about even through my haze. A woman near us overheard our discussion and asked for bookmarks etc – which is great. But then she went on to grill me about how I did my “extensive” research on sex scenes etc. She seemed to be fascinated with if my husband was willing to let me research with other people, or if I could only “use” him. She was thoroughly disappointed when I pointed out that my sex scene researc consisted of my imagination, reading/internet or my own reading, and not getting down and dirty with roomfulls of strangers. LOL. Poor woman.
From there, it went downhill. Out of the blue, she asked if I’d ever heard “show don’t tell” before. Innocent question – right?
Now, I’m hoping if I didn’t feel like I’d been run over by every car at Nascar that I would’ve caught on sooner and seen the caution lights flashing, but I guess I’ll never know. I, of course, answered yes, I had heard of show don’t tell. I asked her why. Instead of answering, she asked if I could explain the difference to her. Her voice had taken on a bit of an edge by now, and if I was at 100%, I probably would’ve known to duck and run right them. Oh well. I gave her a basic explanation – you know – the easy “Jon is angry” vs “Jon’s pulse pounded as his fists clenched at his sides,” or whatever I pulled out of the air at that precise moment.
You would’ve thought I’d told her that I was using her husband, boyfriend and brother for my sex research from the way she reacted. Her entire body stiffened, and I had a fleeting thought that this would be a great example of showing anger. In fact, if I woud’ve been quicker and more on my snark – I probably would’ve pointed it out.
Through clenched teeth she told me that she had written a novel (three hundred thousand words) and every contest and agent or editor she sent it to told her the entire thing was telling. One contest judge even went so far as to tell her that there was not one “showing” sentence in the entire book. (Gee – I hope that wasn’t me…LOL…although I usually leave nicely worded comments.) She couldn’t understand why that made such a big difference. Everyone must just be jealous of this wonderful story she had written. After all – this was going to be the next best thing since Harry Potter – her entire family and even a few of here smarter friends loved it! So, she wasn’t going to change one single word of her story – she was just frustrated because the “search” for that one agent/editor or contest judge who was smart enough to “get” her story was taking longer than she thought.
By this time, I can smell my breakfast Jack, but they haven’t called my number yet. My stomach is about to revolt, and the drum section of ten marching bands has taken up residence just inside my temples. Not to mention, I’ve got that clammy icky feeling I get when I really need to eat. This woman is showing no signs that she has even noticed my discomfort, and is still thouroughly unhappy at the world for not recognizing her literary prowess.
You can picture me now slowly inching toward the door before she asks if I’ll take a look at her manuscript. In face, she opened her mouth, and I knew that was going to come out – I even winced like I was bracing for a blow. But the Universe must’ve taken pity on me, because they called my order. I felt like warmed over crap, but I wasn’t about to turn down such a grand opportunity. I made quick excuses, wished her luck and made a quick escape over to my nail appointment. Whew – for a minute there I felt like I had a target on my forehead – EEK!
Anyway, the food and another Sprite bought at the nail salon got me through without incident. In fact I was feeling pretty decent for the first half or so, and I always enjoy talking to those ladies. Just to show you how much energy I didn’t have – I even forgot to tell them about the Jack In the Box incident. Maybe I blocked out the trauma… LOL. Anyway, my nails look great, but as soon as I left, I knew I had to come back home. My so-not-earned hangover had inched back up to the third worst, which is where I’d started the morning, and my head and my stomach were doing the wave.
What the hell?? No, I’m definitely not pregnant for all of you out there wondering that about now. Thanks to my dh’s braveness, and a little snip snip, I no longer have to wonder that every time my stomach decides it’s not having a fun day. Hey – so at least something is looking up!
Anyway, somehow I made it home without incident and dumped everything just inside the front door (where I found the cats laying on it later) and I headed straight for my comfy bed. The cats were already waiting for me, and only complained a little when I made them share not only the covers but my pillow. Greedy little bastards!!
After several weird and very vivid dreams that I can’t for the life of me remember, I rolled out of bead, starving, and rummaged through the freezer until I found one of those Hawaiian chicken and rice bowls you can microwave. I had to force that down since my stomach didn’t want it, but I knew I needed to eat. I ended up dozing on the couch, a cat on either side and the fish tank bubbling in the background. I woke up about an hour later when one of the cats almost got their head stuck inside my water glass. Little shit!
I decide more Excedrin is in order, and I actually open my writing file and stare at my WIP for about ten minutes before giving up and stumbling back to bed. This time I expend a little extra effort and drag out the comfy jammies and then get settled before the cats come in to stake their claims to bed space. They really do think this is their house and I’m there to cater to them, but they know better than to put up too much of a fuss when I’m not feeling well, or their little fuzzy behinds will be kicked out of my room.
Now, at this point I’m thinking I probably would feel better if I DID have a hangover, but at least I’m tucked comfortably in bed with my two purring heaters and a cool washcloth over my forehead. Just as I’m about to doze, I get the first of four phone calls on the home phone which I ignore. If it’s anything important – those people have my cell phone number and know if I ignore that to leave a message. About ten minutes later, someone rings my doorbell-which I also ignore, and just as I’m gritting my teeth over that one, another call on the home phone.
GRRRRR!! I grit my teeth and grope for the phone to check caller ID. Terminex – yeah, like I want to talk about bugs in my condition – NOT! So, I toss the phone in the general direction of dh’s side of the bed where the cradle is and roll over to try to find a more comfortable position. Two more calls later, I decide the world is conspiring against me and that maybe there is some reason I need to be up and around. Fine.
I roll out of bed and go out in the living room to find my pile of crap by the front door with a cat perched on top. I kick him off so I can retrieve my laptop, and decide that since I do have a deadline looming, I need to get some wordcount done – even if it sucks. So, I sit down with some hot tea and open my writing file. I stare at the name, and then scroll down to where I left off. What’s the name of my heroine again? Uh… Not sure. Okay, maybe if I read the last few paragraphs I’ll remember what the hell this story is about – I just knew yesterday! Hmmm, still nothing. Do I even know how to write?
Crap! Okay, maybe writing is out of the question for today. Every now and then, your body just needs a day off to rest and recover. Fair enough – I can take a hint. And there’s a Top Chef marathon on anyway. Besides, the fact that I’ve never in my life watched Top Chef has no bearing – and watching them bicker does take my mind off the fact that I feel like the stuff people scrape off the bottom of a boat dock. Watching them prepare food doesn’t even bother me – as the rice bowl I choked down seems to have calmed my stomach. So, daytime TV kept me mildly entertained for the several hours until my dh got home.
Now by this time, I realize there’s no way I’m going to be able to even get dressed again, let alone make the Pampered Chef party. I’m bummed because I don’t get to see my friend Kathy much any more and I had been looking forward to it. Oh well, I email Kathy to send my decline, put my Pampered Chef order in online and call Isabella to let her know I won’t be going and relax back into my vegetative state in front of the TV. The dh was kind enough to bring me a baked potato from Wendy’s for dinner and I popped open one of his Sierra Mists – since I usually just drink water.
Here’s the weird Murphy’s Law thing. By about 8pm when “So You Think You Can Dance” came on, I was starting to feel better. I could actually speak in more than one syllable sentences with expressive grunts, and I was no longer in hangover comparison mode. By the time 9pm came around, I was wide awake, although back to dragging a bit. My body wasn’t 100%, but I had slept too much throughout the day to be sleepy. I tried to write, but still no dice, so I settled for checking email, catching up on my MySpace pages, checking blogs and watching some Haunted Hotels episodes. I made it to bed about 1am and slept like the dead. In fact, when my dh’s backup alarm went off at 8am, and he popped in to apologize for waking me – I felt nearly human.
I’m still not firing on all thrusters and I need to go find breakfast, but I think today will be better – thankfully.
I have an appointment this morning, but then the whole day is mine – and maybe I can catch up on all that lost writing time. But just for the record – I’m steering clear of that Jack In the Box for a while unless I can scope it out and make sure that same woman isn’t there!! Or maybe I’ve just learned my lesson and will wait for the fourteen cars in the drivethrough! 🙂