So it started like this: wake up, write a bit, managed 337 fiction words and a blog post, and went to work.
Came home, relaxed, and shooed the youth towards the shower. While the second was partaking in a ritual cleansing of the skin, I heard “a noise”. If you have ever owned animals or raised children, “a noise” is never usually a good thing. Sure, sometimes it’s just a cat and the scratching post, but it wasn’t this time.
I sent the elder youth to the other room. “Oh dear,” he said. He opened the door to the basement. “There’s a problem downstairs,” I say, still seated across the room.
Because water hitting the floor sounds the same in the shower as it does on the concrete floor in the basement.
DH and elder youth fixed it, junior youth was able to get a shower after the fix, and I decided that – completely unrelated to the catastrophe (that I’ve known about for several years) – I was going to pull up my big-girl socks and do the damn taxes.
Which took about four hours and sucked up the rest of the evening and any other writing impulses I may have harbored at that hour.
Once done, I celebrated with a late night caffeine bomb (Mtn Dew) and a bowl of spicy chips (before junior youth ate them all), staying up past midnight and barely getting my photo posted on time.
This morning I slept in until the very last second (300 seconds after the very last second, actually) and then hopped up, got ready, and bolted out the door.
I only got 556 words for the day, and I didn’t get my #BuJo done in the morning like I usually like to do, but it didn’t matter. Because I got my taxes done. A whole month early. A month earlier than I’ve done them in recent memory. (And not-so-recent memory.) Which makes me very proud.