Jaws of Death

This morning I sat at my writing desk determined to stay on schedule with my novel, the one I started two years ago about the love triangle between a young mandolin prodigy, his childhood sweetheart and his sister, who worships his childhood sweetheart. I want to finish my editing--have set the end of September as my goal and have to edit 15 pages a day to accomplish this. I am on track--was on track--until this morning.

I opened my laptop just I heard a massive iron beast pull into the driveway of the house two doors from ours. Rumbling and beeping its way to the back yard it appeared 100 feet from my bay window in its slicker yellow majesty. It stretched its sturdy neck, lifted its mighty head, dipped it, opened its jaws and ripped a sedan-size hole into the roof of my neighbor's house. After twenty minutes of tearing, pulling and shredding the dirty deed was done. I'm not kidding. That's how much time it took to reduce a two story, red brick, four bedroom structure to the size of a dumpster. Wow. Back to work.

I often have morning cramps--have self-diagnosed it as IBS. Enough information. Had it this morning--I thought. Not so lucky. Five hours later, here in bed under my comforter, I have awoken with the clear realization that the bug, which downed my husband this entire week, got me. Swine variety? I hope not.

Just as well. The house is gone but the 'Jaws of Death' have spent the last five hours ripping up the concrete driveway. I hope my own house survives the earth tremors and that tomorrow is a better day.

So much for keeping deadlines. The flu is just another reason to hate this time of year.

Did I mention I don't like September?