The Fail Motto

Well, this certainly won’t help.

With two novels already on the stalled literary assembly line, I’ve just crammed three new writing projects onto the old conveyor belt. Two short stories and a “thing” I have yet to define.

My motto: if you’re going to fail, fail spectacularly.

Until Monday…

Chloe

Post-note: Travel day tomorrow so no blog. Keep a firm upper lip, people. *winks*

The Prudence Game

Unfortunately, writing is not car racing.

After an unplanned month off the race track and parked in the parents’ garage, the authorial vehicle can not just be revved up to a full and thunderous start, roaring out of the old homestead’s driveway chasing the finish line at an all-out, reckless speed.

For me, writing is more like running. A full head of steam on the pavement after a month’s absence from the sport promises nothing but shin splints, groin pulls and ACL nasties.

“Slow but sure” may not win the race, but it will finish the race.

Sometimes, that has to be enough.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Wrung Out

Played the dishtowel yesterday.

After strangling ever milligram of my meds out of me, life tossed my soiled and limp remains into the corner and left me to rot on a pile of forgotten dirty socks.

In fact, I am currently languishing there now.

Hold your nose and run, my friends.

Run.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Uphill Patience

At the jaunty pace of a three-legged tortoise moseying uphill, my life is slowly returning to normal around here.

My writing career, alas, lags even further behind this poor battle-tested turtle.

However, as one who once owned and loved a three-legged angel/firebrand of a dog, I don’t mind waiting on any such gutsy soul to arrive at my side.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

Good Grief

Here lies the final report on my A/C saga. Let us quickly mourn its passing and move on…

On the one hand, after one month without, I finally have cool air again!

On the other hand, after twenty years of servicing my tee-tiny household with only sputtering success, my A/C unit has received a terminal diagnosis. The old gal has maybe a year to complete her bucket list before she turns to scrap.

Bottom line: My A/C has entered hospice care with me and mine flitting the bill. How nifty is that?

Here ends the final report on my A/C saga. Let us speak of this no more.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe  

Irony Summoned

Just a quick note as the A/C magicians spin their magic over my sickly unit… I have just found a jury summons in my mailbox.  This is the 3^rd time I’ve been summoned. This will be the 3^rd time I’ll be sending a note to the judge from my shrink. This will hopefully be the 3^rd time I’ve been dismissed as patently loony.

Good news… My streak of invisibility is now over.

Bad news… My streak of invisibility is now over.

The irony just reeks.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

The War Whisperer

“Make love, not war,” they say.

I laugh at such foolish innocence.

When the foe is an a/c repair company and the battleground is your home…

When the fight has dragged on for a month…

When said-home is quickly becoming said-swamp… it is time for even the staunchest of cowards to take up arms and fight for hearth and Freon!

*quickly deflates*

In other words, travel day tomorrow. Another painful, useless, infuriating a/c tech visit Monday. Give me strength.

Until Monday…

Chloe