So the saying goes. The universe cares little for the things we wish to accomplish, as I learned the hard way this weekend.
First my plan to actually get ahead financially and pay off as many bills as possible went screaming down the crapper when my car decided it no longer wanted to go in reverse.
Transmission rebuild = big bucks
Transmission replacement = sell your first born
Having no car until Tuesday the earliest meant a flurry of phone calls to work out Monday's bake sale plans. Not my biggest worry, mind you, but still.
I breathed a sigh of relief late Friday night, figuring I had everything now marginally under control. Saturday was all about editing and catching up on laundry. I had just realized that there might be an end to the laundry monster if I worked non-stop until dinner [one load an hour in between editing]. It was looking good until DS tripped in the basement and landed on his arm.
We arrived home from the ER four hours later with his arm [two broken bones] in a fiber glass cast.
I would like to state for the record that I have spent entirely too much time in hospitals over the past ten months. [Hence why I did not watch the final episode of, nor do I mourn for the demise of ER.]
Huge sigh. So, today is all about revisions - and if I finish those, back to editing, and then figuring out how to keep the boy's arm dry while he takes a shower.
Let's see how well these plans hold up.