Got to my computer (sweating) by 7:30 a.m., saw the job: 18 single-spaced pages, plus a 2-page Summary, plus 4 pages of references. All single-spaced. It made for some dense reading, with a ton of cross-checking. (They even got the name wrong of their own project at one point.)
I did my level best, but there was no way I could make their 5 p.m. deadline. (It didn't help that I had to get Li'l Martini off to LARP camp with morning snack + lunch + afternoon snack + sunscreen + bug spray, all labeled with his name — we've taken advantage of school lunches for years now, I haven't packed a lunch bag in I don't know how long. And we don't have cookies lying around here any more, Husband is likewise trying to eat leaner and meaner and he's a big cookie monster, so for lunch dessert I ended up giving my cherub a small handful of mini chocolate chips and three marshmallows . . . ! Also, I had to take Mimosa to buy the needed meat for her chosen dinner — she's our Monday night chef now, Martini is doing Thursdays — plus a visit to the post office, and then of course I had to help Mimosa with dinner prep [she's good, but not quite ready to solo on ginger applesauce, yeast rolls, steak tips, and sauteed sugar snaps — but everything was yummy, especially the rolls, which I contributed only a soupcon of effort to! My budding Julia Child!].)
So I e-mailed the client at 5, saying, in essence, So so sorry, but, you know . . . the job is almost 10 pages longer than I'd expected — but I sure will try my best to get it to you by 7.
I guess I expected, I don't know, a response along the lines of, Oh, please, don't rush on our account, we know we screwed up; you enjoy a nice dinner with your family, any time tonight will be fine!
What I got instead:
- Client 1: You weren't supposed to edit all the other stuff. She only sent you 18 pages.
- Client 2: Gee, it was 18 pages when I sent it . . . not sure what happened.
In any event, I got the whole shebang back to them at 8 p.m., and now I'm stewing because I spent 10 hours on this thing and I think they won't pay me for it all. Because it was only 18 pages, don'tcha know.
While I'm on the subject of wretchedness, here are some updates:
- No word from Crazy Karate Kid's family. We sent them a copy of the letter (the karate school director was pretty sure the parents hadn't read it) and as Husband says, What can they possibly say after seeing that? Their girl is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and needs serious help. We asked them to refrain from contacting our daughter again, and they seem to be abiding by that. Certainly, nothing has happened at the school, where we all still go. My hope is that we can write "The End" now — but who really knows.
- Speaking of karate, remember my beloved coach who was accused of child molestation, whose innocence-until-proven-guilty I clung to like a life raft? Yeah. He just pleaded guilty. Two years in jail. My heart breaks.
- Penguin still hasn't paid me. Currently, I'm owed $2K+ for editing work (spread among three clients). Ah, the easy breezy life of a freelancer. It's a power position, I tell ya!
- My weight is stuck in California weight, and it's been too hot to walk even a block — though I've got back-to-back zumba this week, and tomorrow Mimosa and I resume our early a.m. run/walks, which will be great. I found a Monday night zumba class, which I'll check out in two weeks, so my exercise schedule will be Monday and Wednesday zumba, Tuesday and Friday 2.7-mile walks, plus weights and all that. All this exercise should amount to something! I'm still eating very lightly, as I sweat sweat sweat.
OK, time to wrap up the wretched and take a bath. Oh, tubby —you never fail me!
(It's just another Manic Monday, I guess.)
—Lady C, Hot In Boston!