When we first built our garage, one of the most exciting things (because I am a geek) was that we could have a big freezer out there to store things like lasagnas and casseroles and spaghetti sauce, as well as stuff we eat all the time that we could buy extras of when it was on sale. If I make a lasagna, or soup, I usually freeze half, so I LOVED that I had all these little containers, marked and labeled (with my labelmaker!) as well as coffee cakes and Alexia waffle fries (which were just on sale buy one, get one, the best deal EVER). I used to get excited about purses. Now it's meals in Pyrex. Whatever.
So two weeks ago, I'm getting ready for the beach. My husband is out of town and I'm packing the car by myself, running around like a crazy person, trying not to forget anything. I take my cooler with some stuff I'm bringing down out to the freezer, where my husband also keeps some bags of ice for Just This Kind Of Occasion. Fill it up, put the ice back, and I'm on my way.
Then, a couple of days later, when husband returns home, I get a call. Turns out when he went into the garage, he smelled something. Upon closer inspection, he discovered that I LEFT the freezer wide open AND left the bag of ice, half full, to melt all over the garage floor. WHAT? I almost had palpitations. I mean, this is NOT like me. I am the person who checks that her alarm is set, like, forty times before she goes to bed. I have been known to drive back to my house to make sure I locked the door, only to find, always, that it is, in fact, locked. It's like I went totally insane. Even worse (than being insane?) everything in the freezer---all my casseroles, the steaks, even the coffeecakes I got on super sale---are ruined. Done. Finished.
Oh, the shame. I could just HEAR my mother, who never throws out or wastes a bite of food, clicking her tongue. And both my grandmothers, who were the exact same way, chiming in behind her. It was loud, too.
There's something so awful about doing a thing that is SO outside your realm of normal behavior. It makes you question everything. If I'd leave the freezer open and a bag of ice to melt all over the garage, would I leave the stove on? Or the door wide open? I mean, I'm a girl who backs up my novels in not one, not two, but FOUR different places in case of a computer crash. What in the world was I thinking?
I guess I wasn't. But as I stood there later, piling things into a hefty bag (all those Alexia fries, oh, my goodness, the horror) all I could think is that some things you just can't explain. And also, there is something to be said about streamlining your life, as I've been saying here I really, really need to do. When you're so crazybusy you're leaving things wide open, literally, it's time to take a step back and figure out what you can do better. So I'm working on that now. Also, I see a fair amount of lasagna and chicken soup making in my future. Sigh. At least I have plenty of room for them.
In other news, I've gotten a few emails lately from people who have bought my books, only to find a chunk of pages are missing. (Maybe someone was busy attending to their freezer in the printing house?) I, of course, want to be a full service author, and in the past I have tried to remedy this situation by replacing the books personally, but now I'm out of extra copies and wondering what course of action to recommend to them.If any booksellers are reading this: would you take back a book missing pages and replace it? Would the publisher then reimburse you? I am curious. Also, trying to fix the things I can in order to deal with those I cannot. Now I just need the wisdom to know the difference. Maybe it's in my garage.
Have a good evening, everyone!