That moment when you embrace disaster...

That moment when I decided to embrace the rolling disaster that's been my 2024...

I realize this is normally where I feature the latest antics of my Greatest Dane -- and I promise that's coming! -- but first I have to take a moment to share with you the utter nonsense of my week.

Between family emergency and doggo skin infection and dayjob shenanigans, 2024 has not been conducive to writing. BUT I have a deadline for The Harpy In White and needed a win -- so I decided to make it happen. (You see where this is going, don't you?)

I spent the Easter weekend resurrecting my publishing deadline from beyond the grave -- this involved 14 hr days and typing until my fingers cramped. But I did it! *cue victory music* My editor (a champion among humans) finished running through the doc, and I worked through her notes. 

Then I made that fatal, dire error of thinking "maybe I can breathe a little."

The next day the hanging light in Fable's sulk salon burst into flames. A wire shorted, a lightbulb exploded, and a line of fire shot for the ceiling.

I quickly learned that you can snuff out a lightbulb with a mug. 

Hubs took down the murdery fixture (honestly, what did we do to it? We've had the piece for YEARS and always been very appreciative of its light-shedding ways) and downstairs neighbor and I harried off to Ikea to find a replacement. 

Then I returned home and ordered emotional support pizza. 

Because sometimes my feelings require pizza. 

We received pizza and settled into our comfy seats to eat cheese-covered carbs and watch murder. And then -- you guessed it -- we made the tragic mistake of saying "at least that's over with."

Because then Fable started crying. 

(Told you we'd get to the dane antics)

She was upset about something, and we weren't sure what. Now, she's a dramatic soul. You know this. I know this. Even our vet knows this. So we don't jump to conclusions. She could be traumatized from the fire or have stubbed her toe -- the options are endless. 

But as the evening progresses, she gets worse. Hubs checks her middle again and it's tight -- twisted stomach is a major threat for deep chested dogs like Great Danes. No more waiting for us. We load her into the car and go to the emergency vet. 

Both hubs and I are hoping it's gas and that we're about to pay for her most expensive fart ever. 

The emergency vet was awesome. 

The techs were not up to the challenge that is Fabes (true to form, she began opening doors and starting shenanigans). But they got her through a vitals check and confirmed her tummy was fine. 

So... it could be gas. It could be stress. It could be that she really wanted to eat those tasty tasty vet treats. 

We make it home and it is late, yet I am strung out. Too strung to sleep... so I eat some more emotional support pizza and watch a murder show. (The question of 'why is murder soothing to you, Dee, you absolute weirdo' is one we'll tackle another time. Maybe.)

Fabes settles down and I get a few hours of sleep. I make it to dayjob and am mostly useful. 

But then -- THEN -- the next night is worse. 

That night the hubs and I lay awake, while Fabes snuggles next to us -- crying softly. It was the most heart wrenching sound you've ever heard. 

I do not get much sleep, and I take Fabes to the vet. 

Turns out she's hurt her back from playing too hard at the park with her bestie (an injury only Fabes could get). She's on the good drugs and pleased to tell you that everything is reaaaaaally groovy. Then she'll probably forget you're there and be happily surprised all over again. 

As for me? I had an epiphany: If I cannot fight the disaster, then I must accept it.  

I'm not saying that disaster is the goal. It's not! But there comes a point where you either rail fruitlessly against the elements... or you accept that your metaphysical dumpster is on fire. And maybe put some stickers on it and add some glitter? 

Weirdly, I feel better when I picture it with a nice purple and a big rainbow. 

Now, decorating a metaphysical dumpster isn't for everyone -- I'm a strange one, I know -- but I figured what the heck. Maybe 2024 has been a challenge for you, too. Or maybe you'll get a good chuckle out of my chain of unfortunate events.  

Either way, I hope you're keeping well! And I hope you enjoy a sneak peak of chapters 3 and 4 at my upcoming release, The Harpy In White, which is out April 12th under my Dee St. Holm name. 

Luv, 
Dee