last night, too worried about dh's surgery today. it's not a big surgery, but still, last time I waited for someone to come out of the operating room, the surgeon came out and told me my mother was dying. it's just a stupid psychological thing, right? Right.
Next month we are going away for the weekend for my birthday to the west coast. Our first weekend away since the hurricane. The book will be turned in by then. I'm getting there. Slowly. This has been the worst deadline because of all the distractions, between the work trips to Guatemala and the unexpected one to Haiti (I lost about a full week of writing over that one) and my uncle's death and the trip to New York, and now this surgery.
I feel like a race car driver navigating brick walls. Where's the finish line?