I finished May and was hoping to return to sanity, but June has been, if anything, worse. I won't bore you to pieces with all the deadlines I've got that are backing up, but suffice it to say, I've got enough work to do to keep me busy 24/7 for quite a while. Bleck.
I was starting to feel very sorry for myself on Monday last, when somehow I had simultaneously double-booked myself and failed to record both appointments in my calendar (Siri, what happened? I wish I could blame you, but I'm sure it was my muddled brain). I managed to sort that out, and was recuperating the next day, when my helpful little iPhone bleeped to tell me that a member of my writing group had updated her status. "Whatever," I thought, but I looked anyway (how easy it is to be distracted from a grant report!) and was horrified. Long story short, she and her husband crashed their motorcycle on Sunday, and while she came away with a sprained knee, he had broken his neck, shoulder, and some ribs. Miraculously, he survived, and was airlifted to ICU. Right now it looks like he didn't damage his spinal cord, thank God, but at very best he's facing months and months of recovery and may never work again (he's a police captain).
So, no more feeling sorry for myself. My deadlines are bad, but not deadly. My entire life wasn't turned upside down in an instant. My friend would change places with me in an instant, I'm sure. The months of waiting to hear back from publishers are nothing, just nothing, compared to the uncertainty she's facing. All I can do to help her is pray and be a friend, and that's really the best thing, anyway. I'm not perfect, and I'll still feel frustrated and overworked, but hopefully the ne