Finished the copyedits. It took four passes, one of which was a page-by-page compare-collate with the actual final draft. By the end, unwashed, glaring, exhausted, and ready to kill the next person who tossed a semicolon where it didn’t belong, I sent the entire package off.
That was my weekend. I know some people have weekends that are actually relaxing, but mine are for catching up, especially since salaried publishing folks (not the writers, never the writers, give them a salary and they might be able to pay their bills, forsooth!) tend to clear things off their desks on Friday, dumping them into freelancer laps. Which wasn’t how the CEs landed on me, but I’ve gotten in the habit of the weekend being just like the work-week.
I did manage to get some housework done, and of course, Odd Trundles got his bath. Have you ever seen umpty-scrump pounds of bulldog practicing Gandhi-like passive resistance in the face of warm water and soap? It’s as amusing (and as hard on the lumbar spine) as you’d imagine. I have to carry Odd from his hiding place to the bathtub, scrub every crusted inch of him–oh, the crusts? Well, bulldogs are yeasty, and I can only wash him once a week or he gets skin problems. So, there’s a daily session with a sponge and a warm washcloth to get creases and folds cleaned out, as well as baby wipes (and, let’s be honest, hemorrhoid wipes) to deal with the more delicate valleys. Things have gotten way better since we switched to a sulfur shampoo, but still, every morning there’s various secretions to be worked free of his surprisingly sensitive skin.
I’ve talked several people out of getting bulldogs just by detailing Odd’s vet bills and the daily routine that keeps him clean and unscabrous.
Anyway, today is for rest and renewal, coming up for air. Knitting. Finishing my meander through Antonioni’s trilogy. An easy run with Miss B at my side. Looking through the projects I have left on my docket and arranging them. I’m not supposed to work today, I’m supposed to rest so I can be more efficient and energetic tomorrow.
But I’m sure I’ll steal a few minutes to write on Beast of Wonder. Or something else. If I go without writing for a day I’m uneasy; two days and I’m uncomfortable; any more and the urge becomes actual physical pain, fingertip to hair-end to toes. I have never understood writing as a hobby; for me, it’s an outright need.
In any case, today is for being gentle with myself. And, possibly, for dancing around the office a bit. Needs and projects are good, yes. But dancing is another matter entirely.
Happy Monday, my friends.