Some days beginning with the mundane.

This particular day turned out to be an exercise written by mischievous demons. On second thought, perhaps the demons meant to create chaos in the world of a self-avowed stress ball. Folks look at her with affection and a generous dose of pity because of her unfortunate adventures.

Could it be she got it wrong?  Is it ridicule she hears instead of kindly chuckles? They are merely jealous of the creative ways she finds to cause devastation and chaos in her life with little effort or forethought.

But then, she knows the truth. She is a stress ball of Olympic magnitude. How else can we explain this interesting, hair-pulling-worthy day?

The only thing on her agenda, aside from routine chores, was a doctor’s appointment and finishing her novel. The editor waited to get her hands on the latest book with red pen in hand. The editor is good with that red pen. She wields it with the pinpoint precision of a rapier. She has been known, on occasion, to bring the chaos dweller to tears. Never with malice. This editor is kindness personified until she gets her red pen poised over the writer’s latest creation.

The plan. Save the book to a flash drive and hand off the latest creation in a professional manner, rather than cuddling it as the baby it happens to be.

If we can point to the chaos dweller’s most significant flaw,  it would be the loathsome (to some) trait of cleaning and the urge to organize everything.

She decided to make the editor’s life simple. The first thing she did after getting a cup of coffee was to clean up the contents of the flash drive. It was quick and thorough. And, now the little disc was clean and ready to hold the completed book.

When the writer clicked on her documents file, the book was not where it should be. It seems, the book was saved to the flash drive and not the computer hard drive.

Yep. You guessed it. Chaos, also known as the compulsive cleaner and organizer lady, deleted the book. The book is in the ether. Everything they (collectively, everyone in the family) tried to recover the lost novel were unsuccessful.

Not even The Wizard, her magical technical support guy, had success. Not even after purchasing a recovery software, he found something, but not the final six chapters.

Attempting to recreate six brilliantly written chapters is an exercise in banging one’s head against a concrete wall. In other words, those lost sections need a resurrection miracle. Fun times.

After that loss, chaos woman persisted in her clear-out and organize ways. Several times, her son gave her a stern look parents use so often on their errant children.

“Mom! Stop cleaning the computer! It has plenty of space. Haven’t you learned your lesson about needlessly erasing innocent computer files?”

Later the same day, the doctor’s appointment devolved into an unscheduled visit to ER. The doctor wanted tests run and immediate results in hand. Since it was Friday, the regular route of tests results would reach him Wednesday. “That’s too long,” he said.

“I don’t want to spend the night in the hospital,” she growled.

“If you don’t go, you might not spend the night anywhere.”

ER is scary and yet strangely comforting because something constructive is happening.

The vampires took several vials of her royal blue blood. Guess what? It is red instead of blue.

The X-Ray lady walked in and asked, “Are you pregnant?”

The writer laughed. “Honey I’m 74. I better not be pregnant.”

Then the nurse in the room piped in. “You would have to come out of retirement if you were pregnant,” she said guffawing.

It is better to know what is going on as soon as possible. The imagination can build elaborate stress castles, often worse than things are.

There was one thing left to do. Call the friend and ask “Guess where I’ve been?”


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