I’ve Got Nothing
by V Rose Dahrke
In the last week I’ve had the following happen:
1) The basement flooded due to heavy rains. This was the foundation wall in the storage room (warning: language). Yes, that’s me shouting obscenities, and the scraping noise is me bailing water with a dust pan into some of my brewing equipment. I bailed for two hours before my husband and his brothers got things sandbagged properly. That was last Thursday. We just started moving things back down there last night.
2) Some of my journals were destroyed. Did I mention that the room that flooded was both my husband’s office and our library? We managed to save pretty much everything else, but a couple of my journals are gone. Some were able to be air dried, some were damaged badly enough that if I don’t type them, I’ll lose everything to mold. At least one was totally unrecoverable due to bleeding ink.
3) We had to move the entire library upstairs. I have two kids. The horrors of this should be self explanatory.
4) Someone attempted to steal my car. Pro tip: If you stick a screwdriver into the ignition of a ’03 Buick Century, you’ll do $500 worth of damage and have nothing to show for it. You can’t start one that way. The best part? The would-be thief got into the car by sliding down a faulty window. How could he know the window wasn’t working? Easy. He’s probably the same guy who got in through that same window two weeks ago when it was stuck down and stole my owner’s manual, an expired registration, and my renaissance faire hat. No, I’m not kidding.
5) I had to pay to have the car towed literally across the street to the mechanic because the steering column is locked and I can’t push it.
6) Lacking a car, I’ve had to pull my kid in a wagon to school. Two and a half miles each way.
7) The office in which I work as a bookkeeper also flooded. No paycheck, no hours.
8) I haven’t written a damn word. Not here, not anywhere. Not even in the rough draft of my book, which is 2.5k words from being done and is driving me crazy. Nothing.
So, I’m physically worn out, my house is almost unlivable due to clutter, and my husband is constantly in my office. There’s no story this week. I’m sorry. I know it’s no excuse, and I know it’s unprofessional to make excuses. The excuse is has been a story in itself, though. At least it felt like it.