Driving lessons with the Princess proceed apace. Also, since I have a manual (the Sooper Subaru, who I christened Carlyle for a number of reasons now lost in the mists of time) I’m also teaching her friends about the joys of shifting.
Poor Carlyle’s clutch will never be the same.
Among the many lessons parenting will teach you (keeping a straight face, how to become completely inured to all sorts of bodily fluid spatter, everyone will panic if you do so keep up a good front) is a certain form of non-attachment. “Yeah, got a teenager, clutch is gonna be wrecked. Yep, have nice wineglasses, those are gonna die soon. That houseplant isn’t long for this world. Mmmmh, lovely sheets, someone’s going to barf on them. Nice pair of heels–dog’s going to eat them.” The Princess’s friends can’t get over how calm I am. “She drove right into the bushes and her mum didn’t even blink!” “If my dad was here he’d be screaming by now.” I haven’t explained to them that I’ve already consigned my soul and my car to the gods, because neither’s getting out of this unscathed.
In other news, Ruby’s story might be the book I write non-linearly. *headdesk* Just when I start to get comfortable with a process, I start another damn book and the process goes out the window. The Muse certainly loves to keep me on my toes.
Also this week, I’m structuring some other editing packages! Stay tuned for details, that’s going to be fun.
And now it’s time to go pick up the Princess from driving school…and maybe let her drive partway home. *keeps a straight face*
*but just barely*