Just in time for a cold front to come through. That's okay, though. I still have a bunch of long-sleeved shirts in my drawer and my weather-obsessed husband promised it won't get to freezing tomorrow. Occasionally, I am somewhat practical enough to dress appropriately and make sure we have clean clothes and things to eat.
Ah, well. I was sitting with hubby at lunch today and something told me to check my notebook. There was a time when the little spiral-bound pages were my life line. When Dad fell ill in 2001, I had to take care of all their finances, arrange care for Mom and travel a third of my life for my work. Did I mention I was 45 minutes away from my folks? I HAD to write everything down, doctor's appointments, grocery lists, phone numbers (I'm soooo low tech, I rarely have my cell phone on) and the huge list of Things to Do. I don't get everything in the notebook now, though I do have lists of books read, needlework projects in various stages of completion and movies seen recently. I really hate it when I can't dredge up a title or remember so and so's cell phone number, so this is a God-send. And during the early Aughts, I was averaging four hours of sleep a night, meaning most days if you'd asked me for my phone number, I'd draw a blank.
But, when I checked the list of doctor appointments today, I almost started crying. I'd missed a doctor's appointment yesterday afternoon! Totally flaked it--wasn't even home if they'd called, which they didn't. The funny thing was, my husband got two calls reminding him of his dental appointment yesterday, one Friday and one Monday. When I got home, I called and apologized profusely. I told the woman I'd make a big sign and put the rescheduled appointment on our door, which I did.
So, should I blame Spring Fever? Early-onset Alzheimer's? Lack of sleep? Does it even matter? In my novel, my hero (who's not always a very nice man) takes advantage of the heroine's sleep-deprived mind. Two of the sisters comment about having to be "the responsible one." Like they would, I felt bad that I wasted an appointment that someone really sick might have needed.
There were many times over the past five years I've been "distracted" by my fictional characters and their world. I'd take something that happened and obsess about how I would use it in one of my story lines. How dare real life interfere with my imagination! I have to admit, even as a child, people would comment about how I seemed to be "in my own little world." I just have to be in the moment enough, responsible enough, to function and do the practical things a self-employed writer would do, while continuing to write and edit. Like not forgetting doctor's appointments.............