Well, we’re all dying, aren’t we?
Rather melodramatic, I know. It has been that kind of week. The kind of week where death seems to loom over everything and peers over your shoulder to remind you that, hey, by the way, you’re going to die. Any day now. Well, sometime, anyway, and it is inevitable and, how about lunch?
And people wonder why I’m gloomy.
So anyway, I’ve been watching a good series on Netflix, “The Detectives”, which is a documentary about the Manchester police unit that investigates sex crimes. It’s a 3 part series and was, I thought, quite good. You’ll definitely want to give the main “villian” of the piece a good smack upside the head, at the least, but the cops are very sympathetic and seem to take their jobs very seriously. I enjoyed it, although “rape investigations and trials” doesn’t seem like a very enjoyable topic, now that I think about it. But the series is good. I love documentaries . . . it’s just SO hard to find good ones.
I tried to read several books this week. When I was at the library last, I picked up some random Big Fat Fantasy books that had all the markings of good possibilities– expensive-looking covers, nice paper, lots of cheerful blurbs on the back cover. In reality, the books were pretty awful. As much as I hate to demean the work of another writer, seriously, they were bad. And I opened up my email this evening and what do I see but . . . advertisements for those books in big animated gifs on the side of my writing-industry newsletters. If you love great fantasy, you may want to skip “The Grace of Kings” and “A Crown for Cold Silver.” The first one is better than the second– “A Crown for Cold Silver” was, in a word, crap. The Ken Liu book just committed every sin known to Big Fat Fantasy and speculative fiction in general. Ken, if you’re listening anywhere, you DO NOT have to give us the entire backstory of each character when they’re introduced. A little slow reveal of their character through, you know, actions, conversations, actual characterization . . . that’s perfectly fine, really. Infodumps are not fun, even if you’re trying to sell us on how amazing your main characters are.
Anyway, they were both better than the Debbie Macomber book I tried, ill-advisedly, to read. SO SO bad. Not even bad in a good way, but just bad. It read like an outline that someone forgot to flesh out.
All of which reminds me that I need to start writing soon. I know, I know, it’s a lazy thing to say “soon”– writers write and I should have my butt in a chair, right? I’m still trying to figure out this whole “homeschool two hyperactive boys while chasing around a precocious 16 month old who has discovered how to climb EVERYTHING” gig. When you add all the other responsibilities, I just start to fall apart. At the end of the day, all I have left is enough energy to sink into a hot bath with a book or curl up on a chair and try to watch some Netflix.
I think the changes I’ve been making will make things easier, though. I bought a skein of para-cord and we’ve roped it around the dining room table and chairs to keep the Amazing Climbing Baby from climbing up and dancing on the table (literally.) The new baby gate for the bottom of the stairs is due to arrive today. I’m moving down a selection of baby toys and adding more pillows in the hopes that he’ll be more comfortable and happy and maybe give us more peace and quiet while we try to get through the work. But it all comes down to time management. I need to re-fix my sleep schedule again. It’s almost 1am here and I am still awake . . . obviously, something is amiss again.
I’m supposed to be doing a 100 days to better health challenge. Mostly it just makes me feel guilty as I swig down another Coke. But eating well requires time, too– planning and shopping and cooking. I went to the Evil Empire of Walmart yesterday and bought exactly enough food to make tacos and spaghetti and called it good. The day before, we had Dominos pizza. So eating well hasn’t exactly been happening.
I’m trying. I’ve been renovating my oldest daughter’s bedroom, which has taken up tons of energy and time, too. But every renovation project moves us closer to living in a nice place and in a nice way. We moved the computer downstairs and that’s helped, too– got the kids out of the game room, anyway, and stopped the competition for who could play the sound louder, the tv or the computer. It feels a lot cozier downstairs because people are actually staying down there now instead of running upstairs immediately. It’s nice.
Somewhere in there, I have to find time to write. But I dunno when. Miss Autism has dental surgery next week and a doctor’s appointment this week, I need to go to Austin for a shopping trip, I need to do a million different things. Sometime, I need to do something for ME . . . but us mommies aren’t too good at that, you know. Occupational hazard, I think.
Wish me luck, yeah?