A Few Minor Disasters.(Patricia Potter)

Ah, Frustration . . .



Why is it true that when one thing goes wrong, it is quickly followed by two or three other disasters?

I was looking forward to this weekend. My friend, Tracy Farrell with Harlequin, was coming to speak to my romance writers group. Tracy bought my first book some twenty-odd years ago and though I've moved to other publishers we remain good friends.

We've made it a habit to go to dinner at the various conferences we attend. We usually try to make it on or near water. One notable instance was when we took a river boat dinner cruise in Nashville during a Romantic Times Convention – a event made notable by the singing nuns, including two of our Broads. They sang during a talent show, then settled down in the hotel bar. I will never forget the sight of other hotel guests going by the bar and stopping, dumbfounded, at the sight of nuns drinking liquor and smoking cigars in the bar. To this day, I smile at the memory.

But I digress, although that particular conference had a few other interesting happenings that are still told and retold.

I was in charge of dinner plans that night, and I immediately found an advertisement for a river boat dinner cruise. Water. River. Dinner. Sounded good to me. I made reservations. Maybe a second thought occurred to me as we left the hotel to a thunderstorm clap. We persevered and arrived at the river boat. We boarded, along with fourteen European gentlemen who apparently didn’t speak English and one couple on their honeymoon. We waited for others to board. Weren’t any others. Others were smart enough to stay warm and dry in their hotels. Rain pelted the riverboat. The wind blew so hard you couldn't go outside. The poor entertainers played to an audience of eighteen. At least it made a darn good story.

We’ve had other adventures as well. Several other riverboats (I have a affinity for boats), hole-in-the-wall dives, late night wanderings at the San Francisco waterfront and other places. We both seem to enjoy the same pleasures.

So I was really looking forward to this visit. The first disaster happened Thursday night after visiting my mom. A light came on in the dashboard of my new car. I got out my trusty thick (very thick) new instruction books. All five of them. Mind you, this was at 10 p.m. Thursday night, and Tracy was to arrive Friday, and my house was a disaster area.

I finally discovered that the light meant that the tire pressure was low. Okay, I can’t get on the expressway to the airport with a flat tire. Maybe I could go by the tire shop first thing in the morning. The dealership would simply take too long.

Started cleaning up the kitchen at 10:30 p.m.. The garbage disposal didn’t work. I’ve been planning dinner Saturday night with my critique group and Tracy. I didn't need a sink full of dirty water. I went upstairs and started calling plumbers. Never mind it was nearing midnight. This was an emergency. Of course, I had no luck.

Then I realized I didn’t have the time of flight of Tracy’s arrival. I wrote a frantic email. But what if she didn’t come into her office before leaving for the airport? Horrors!

Cleaned some more and finally went to bed at 2 a.m. I didn’t sleep, of course. Bad tire. No garbabe disposal. No flight time. House still to be cleaned. Agggggggg.

Woke with a call from the insurance company handling the claims from the recent flooding of my house. After exlaining a loss to them, I called a plumbing company and begged. Groveled. A lot. They finally agreed to sometime between 9 a.m. and noon to fix the disposal unit. No time to get the tire fixed, but a disposal is all important. I effusively (slobbered with gratitude) thanked the scheduling person and went downstairs.

I tried the disposal again. The darn thing worked. I tried again. It worked again. Chagrined, especially after my begging, I called the plumbing company and cancelled. Made another call to Tracy. Not at the office. I left a another frantic message about time of arrival, then ran out to get the tire fixed. An hour later I arrived back home with a repaired tire. There was both an email and phone message from Tracy with her flight number.

Things were improving. I had a hour to change beds and clean the living room. I was so busy I forgot to get Tracy’s cell number, or leave mine with her e-mail.

No problem. The airport isn’t that big. A bit frazzled, I made tracks to the airport. And waited. And waited. And waited. Unfortunately her flight was with an airline that didn’t have many flights in Memphis, and there was no screen announcing whether or not the plane had arrived. I walked across the airport to the one-person counter. The plane had arrived thirty minutes earlier.

I went back to passenger arrival. No Tracy. Not in the passenger area. Not in the baggage area. Not here, nor hither, either. I had her paged. No Tracy.
No cell phone number.

Heart palpitations.

Another turn around the airport. I didn't remember the airport being this large, and it was growing bigger by the moment. Much bigger. Went back to the airline counter, asked the lone lady to page again. Nothing. Another trip back to the other concourses. Palpitations turned into real pounding. Then on my way back, I saw her. She’d been waiting outside on the curb.

Great flood of relief. But now there was only an hour before we were to meet with other RWA members for dinner.

Arrived at dinner late, but dinner was good. Everyone was happy. We finally returned at my house to see the end of the Presidential Debate.

A mouse ran across the room.

I thought a bunch of electronic noise devices had gotten rid of it. Apparently not, and wouldn’t it show its head just now?

So another day is gone. It’s two a.m., and I'm trying to write this blog. Forgive any typos, mistakes, etc. I am not a rational human being at the moment.

I only hope Tracy is asleep and not thinking about a mouse.

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All my love and prayers go to Lynn. We all love her immensely.