Wednesday was much the same as the day before. Household chores, cup of tea, reading, exercises, dog walking, etc, etc. The day started on time and I didn’t stop for a breath until after we got back from the dog walk. The poet had gone off to an important 2-day conference at work, but without the overnight stay this time. And the rain held off for pretty much most of the day.
The problem arose from a situation I had to step away from in the end, because after posting comments and reviews and sending emails, etc, about something that just isn’t working at the moment, I was spending all of the rest of my time cycling around, checking for replies. And it wasn’t doing me any good. So I copied and pasted the main gist into a document, and deleted the online posts everywhere.
That meant I was able to just leave it for now and wait and see if they bother to reply to my emails, because I was getting more paranoid by the second.
I suggested that UK law may have been broken and it’s possible they may have been checking that. I also asked if they were trying to get around UK law by doing what they were doing, and it’s possible they may have been looking into that. It’s also possible that they may just have been trying to resolve my very big issue. But if that’s the case, a simple update every so often wouldn’t have hurt anyone.
So I deleted everything except for the email, because, well, it’s an email and I’d already sent it, them, several (with evidence they requested, I wasn’t just harassing them), and was finally able to get on with some work.
The work yesterday was the assignment for this week’s WMG workshop on making a living from writing novels. It took a little bit longer than I thought it would and, of course, I hadn’t got around to it by its pre-designated slot. And by the time I sent it off I was ready to go and lie down in a dark room.
I had some play time with the dog in the garden as well, which doubles up as training time, as I’m still trying to teach him to ‘fetch’ and ‘drop’. He’s fetching but not dropping, and then running off at the speed of light as if to say ‘chase me!’, complete with ball, or whichever toy, firmly gripped in his jaws. That’s his favourite game ever.
So, the only job I really didn’t get around to, because quite frankly I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind, was the next client edit that needs proofreading and consolidating with the proofreader report and the author’s requests and responses. I’m not late with it yet, though, and I still have several pre-designated time slots for it. So I’m not panicking about it yet.
The dog was a bit fretty anyway and wanted to sit in the living room from where he could look through the window for when the poet came home. And who was I to argue?
Today is a new day.
The dog has his own ideas of training, doesn’t he? He is so funny. Sounds like a good day.
He’s at that funny age, finding his character.