Lifus Interruptus

There are these parts in books when everything falls apart. Expectations turn awry. Plans go askew. It all happens at once. We usually call them the climax, and while they may bring anxiety, we rest in the coming denoument. (Some of us flip a couple of pages ahead for assurance of said denoument, but we won't mention any names.)

Sometimes life is like this. Except we don't know the page and word counts, so we don't know the timing of the denoument for this particular story (and then there are sequels with their own climaxes and denouments and a cumulative climax and denoument).

Heck, we can't even be sure we're in the climax. We may be in another part of the story entirely, a foreshadowing of the climax, perhaps, or just a section where the author chooses to allow these things to happen for character development. Or maybe it's just how life goes. Lifus interruptus.

Maybe you know what I mean.

Anyway, all this to say, I'm tired. Today, I couldn't figure out why the alarm clock would be buzzing. It's Saturday, I thought. Why did my husband set the alarm clock? You all know, as I know now, that it's not Saturday.

So with your permission (actually, technically, without your permission, because I'm making an executive decision on this), I'm going to hit the snooze button and pretend it's Saturday anyway and come up with something brilliant in two more weeks time.

Expect to be dazzled then.

In the meantime, happy Thanksgiving. Eat lots. Be merry.

Comments

[susan fish]

In case you need it after all, I give you my permission. Happy Thanksgiving!