I don't like Mondays - or do I?

I'm writing this in a kind of stream-of-conciousness fog, so hang with me. Okay? Coolio.

As of today at 5 p.m., I'm 1,796 words into the new novel and, so far, I'm very happy with it! This baby starts out big and bad and then it gets -- bigger and badder.

(I hope.)

Anyway, I wrote about 1,400 words today. That's about 400 words over my usual pace. And this despite one Monday-ism after another.

Listen to this:

First, we had to take our 12-year-old in to the orthopedic doc first thing this morning, where he was fitted with a "boot" to protect what the doc called a "displaced fracture" of the lower tibia. It's the ankle bone, essentially. Ouch. And, the kid was a little miffed since he wasn't getting a real cast, because real casts are cooler.

Then, I noticed I had two almost flat tires, both on the driver's side. Yeah. I wondered how that could happen, too. Especially since the car sits in a locked garage. Anyway, I limped the wounded puppy to a convenience store/gas station near where I live. And noticed that it cost seventy-five cents for air. Air! What is this world coming to? So I went in, and there's a line a mile long at the counter because some woman is cashing in a gazillion of those scratch-off Lottery cards! Dear God. Finally, after about ten minutes, I get to the counter.

Me: Hi. I need change for this dollar so I can put some air in my tires.

Lady: Sorry, we don't give change. You gotta buy something.

Me: I'm trying to. But I don't have any quarters and I have two flat tires. What am I supposed to do?

Lady: (Shrugs).

Me: So I've stood in this $#@&Y line for ten minutes for nothing?

Lady: Yep. And the air machine doesn't work anyway. Next!

I should say at at this point that there was some profanity involved on my part. Sorry.

So I limped the car up the road to a Mobil station (a real gas station!) and not only did the woman let me have air, but after I told her my story, she let me have it for free! Yay.

And then when I got home, I noticed the milk in the fridge was warm. And everything in the freezer was thawed and floppy. So I called the repairman, who had just repaired it a couple of weeks ago. He was, like, really busy. But he he talked me through getting the fan back on. (It was bad, folks. It even involved, like, turning the power off! It's a wonder I didn't electrocute myself.)

And then the glass sliding door on the shower came off. And it's a bitch to get back on, but I finally got it. Of course, I also cut the hell out of one of my fingers.

So I tromp downstairs to my writing area, angry at the whole world. And I wrote more than I have in weeks. Good stuff, too.

Maybe, if I'm really lucky, the cat will claw my eyes out tomorrow and the roof will cave in. Hell, I should have the book finished by 5 p.m.!

I mean, think of the possibilities here! Maybe if I break my own leg on Wednesday, and then the well goes dry and the furnace goes belly up ... well, watch out Pulitizer committee!