This was supposed to be the weekend when I finally finished my YA manuscript. I’ve been working on it for so long that I’ve lived in four cities (in two states) during the work-in-progress phase. And this weekend, I was supposed to finish it. It’s cold outside, I have three days off, and my wife is out of town on the first day. I...was...supposed...to...finish it! Supposed to. Supposed to! SupposedtoSupposedtoSupposedto!!!
So why didn’t I? Because my computer decided to get funky on me. One of those technological leaps called spyware that is making our world such a wonderful place to live. I’ve spent all my free-time trying to de-spy it and copy all my files and running to Mom and Dad’s to make sure their computer had copies as well. Thankfully, nothing’s lost. But now my computer’s in the shop for at least two more days and if I write it’ll be at my parents’ house where the computer is too near the TV and they’re watching the Winter Olympics non-stop. And I want to finish this thing so bad!
Now, my wife’s on her way home (which is a good thing), it’s cold outside (and my wife’s coming home, so that’s also a good thing), and I still have two days off (and my wife’s coming home and it’s cold outside).
Hmm...I wonder if my wife had anything to do with this.