11:09 AM
Not sure it’s even going to be worth the bother trying today.
I have only 44 pages of write-in remaining.
However, yesterday, the Disco Queen upstairs decided to share her freaking musical selections with me at top volume for over four hours, from ten-thirty-ish until three. The constant, repetitive, inescapable (even while wearing a headset and listening to everything from Bach cello to white noise) thump, thump, thump of the damn bass through my ceiling brought on a migraine so bad not even I could work through it—and I’ve had a lot of practice lately working through migraines.
I still have it today.
My head is screaming, and I’m going to take some Tylenol and aspirin and see if I can get some of the edge off this. If I can, 44 pages of write-in is small.
If I can’t, I may miss my deadline—because type-in on this sucker is gonna be a beast.
If you’re playing Write A Book With Me, kick ass, write with joy.
My daughter does the same thing, but now she has her long awaited iphone, all I have to do is look meaningfully at it for the volume to be reduced to a more bearable 120 decibels or so.
Maybe a call to the local authorities with a “disturbing the peace” complaint may help lower the volume.
You had me reaching for a sympathy tylenol! Been there (oh so many times while writing my Master’s thesis while living above a trendy clothing store), and let it ruin my day before. I just couldn’t find a way around it. Finally I made peace with what had been, took a long nap, and kicked some ass in the middle of the night. And yes, I thumbed my nose at the snotty clothing store techno-wenches. Didn’t work all the time. But sometimes it came through for me.
I got a headache reading the headline.