Tuesday afternoon I worked on the final line edits for No Surrender, but I decided to leave a small timeline issue for Wednesday, when the house would be quiet and I could concentrate.
I should have known better.
Wednesday I spent feeling various stages of “like crap”, and the day went downhill from there. When I picked Short Kid up from school, he was lethargic and flushed. That would be due to the 103.5 degree fever. Why, you might ask, didn’t they call me and send him home?
Because a staff member, whose job description in the memory book is teacher’s assistant—which really doesn’t sound anything like school nurse, even in any of the funny accents I tried—felt his forehead and told him he was fine. Yes, that conversation was had this morning when I’d cooled off enough to discuss my displeasure without landing myself on the police department’s Crazy-Ass Parent watch list.
Now it’s Thursday and the Short Kid and I are being appropriately dosed (strep throat), so life swings back to final line edits. After I double-check the timeline issue, I’ll make a separate document in which I accept all the changes and make it an ebook, and then I’ll read it again. Between my editing passes and the editor’s editing passes and the final line editor’s editing passes and yet another final editing pass, if there’s a typo in No Surrender, rejoice for it. It deserved to live.