Last night, I worked on cleaning up the last two pages of a short story. I worked until I was too tired to see straight, and decided to call it a night. It was around 12:30 ish when I turned off my computer and zombie walked to the bedroom.
Mini is five, and he still climbs into bed with us, so when I go to bed, I'm used to having to pick him up and return him to his room. When I scooped him up out of bed last night he was blazing with fever. I took him on to his room and tucked him in bed, then told him to stay awake so I could run for the children's Tylenol. I gave him a dose, and watched him curl up under the covers and go back to sleep. I went on to bed, but couldn't sleep because he wasn't feeling spiffy and I was worried about it. I had all these crazy dreams that boiled down to trying to talk to people who either didn't understand me, or wasn't listening to what I was saying. I think I knew even then I was going to have to keep him home today and tell a lot of other people "no".
I hate to say no. In fact, I hate it so much, that over the years I've landed myself in some pretty interesting situations by not saying no. First things first, I had to call mom about our outing. Mini being sick trumps shopping trip. I know my mom understand that, because hey, she's my mom. And of course, Mom wasn't fazed, bless her. She said her feet were hurting anyway. I told her we would get together later in the week for lunch, and try to have that shopping trip again after I finish this book. After. She said sure. And again, she wasn't fazed.
To bad not everyone had that same reaction. One person is supremely pissed at me right now. (Sorry, honey!) And another still hasn't gotten back to me, and that's the one I'm kind of dreading. But now my plate is relatively clear, I'm able to focus on Mini, and on getting this book written.
Sometimes I think my life would be so much easier if I spent less time planning, because more often than not, nothing goes according to plan anyway.