Okay, I was on vacation last week–a full week off of reading, eating out, hanging out. This week, I’ve had continuing education classes–no, not for writing :confused:, for the pest control business my husband and I own. If I don’t have a certain number of continuing ed classes, I have to sit the state exam again. No thanks. So, Monday was essentially shot. Yesterday, I found myself seriously distracted by the internet and more bug business stuff. Today, however, I’m going to pull out the big writing guns–I’m tracking down my kitchen timer. Seriously. I’ll sit at the computer and set the timer for thirty minutes. I can’t get up to let a cat or dog in or out. No bathroom breaks. No refilling my water glass. No answering the phone. No checking email or web surfing. For half an hour I owe the screen and keyboard my undivided attention. For thirty minutes I have to write without regard to grammar and punctuation. I can revise anything except a blank page. By the end of the day, with enough of those thirty minutes in there, I should have my proposal ready so that I can move on to my new book tomorrow.

In a totally unrelated topic switch, :hehe: why is it that the simplest things become a snafu? I finally joined the 21st century and went with a broadband connection. My husband called the phone company and cancelled the second line that I used for my dial-up connection. The phone company disconnected my home number. I was out of town all last week and my husband’s never at home so I only called him on his cell. Finally, my mother called me on my cell phone on Monday morning to ask me, very tentatively, if I knew my home number was disconnected. It took about two seconds to figure out what had happened.

Of course, it tied up about an hour with the phone company to have them say that the wrong number had been disconnected and they’d restore our service WEDNESDAY by midnight. When I testily asked the dh why it would take them 2 1/2 days to restore our service, he testily replied that I could call them up and ask that question if I wanted to sit through an hour of being transferred from one person to another. I graciously declined that generous offer. In the interim, anyone that calls my house gets a message that this number has been disconnected and is no longer in use. Great! We look like deadbeats who haven’t paid our bill.

Monday afternoon I get a call from the vice principle at my daughter’s school regarding a committe meeting. She calls on my cell and very politely dances around my disconnected number. “Uhm, Mrs. LaBrecque, your home number has been disconnected. Is this a note that we should make on your daughter’s record and would you like to give us an alternate number other than your cell?” I laugh and tell her about the wrong number disconnect. She laughs in return and you can just hear her thinking, “Yeah, sister. I bet you’ll pay that bill on time, next time around.” There’s been a similar call from my dentist’s office and God knows how many other calls that don’t have my cell number…like maybe the coach for the select soccer team that my daughter just made. Their first practice is Friday night and I’ll guarantee he’s called and got that disconnected message. :crazy: I think the phone company should have to replace their standard recording with one that says “We screwed up. These people did pay their bill on time. Please call them back Thursday morning because that’s when we’ll get around to hooking them back up, unless you’re a telemarketer, in which case, you should never call back.”

Jen