inconcievable [sic]

So I do freelance editing on the side for a few different companies. It's usually pretty simple stuff and the extra cash is nice, although I have had to pull a few all-nighters to finish a project with a hard deadline on time and the older I get the more money those seem to be worth. (Oh, to be a freshman again.)

Anyway, I started this job when I was back in the states visiting and I have still. not. finished. it. At this point it's basically three weeks later than they wanted it. And the craziest part is that it's not like it'll take hours and hours to finish. Minutes actually. I'd say thirty and that's on the generous side. But I just cannot make myself sit down and finish it. And it's been this way for ages.

I packed it along with a half-finished book for the flight back to London, but instead of working on it, I finished the book, watched everything that looked decent on in-flight entertainment, and then started the book again.

I sat down in our lounge with the manuscript and 30 minutes of battery life left on my laptop, determined to use the limited time to force myself to finish quickly. Instead, I let the battery die and watched my first ever episode of Hollyoaks. (Incidentally, it will be my last ever episode as well.)

I finally took the plunge and deliberately left my book at home on the long tube ride from my house to Russell Square, but instead of cracking the pages AT ALL, I spent the whole time running through tube station names in my head to figure out the answer to this*:

And I should be working on it now, because I did in fact send an email telling them to expect in their inbox first thing Monday morning, but instead I'm writing this blog, so what can you do?

Well, this comes to mind:

This is Riley and me on our trip to Ireland this April. You might not be able to tell, but those are the Cliffs of Moher (a.k.a. Insanity) behind us. So of course, along with every other American there, we started quoting lines from The Princess Bride. One of our favourites being this flagrant misuse. So amidst the rain/hail/gale-force winds we hunkered down to make a sign for our picture. Only, we couldn't remember how to spell it. Did it follow the 'i' before 'e' rule or was it one of the exceptions? So on a scrap piece of paper we wrote down both options, picked the one that looked right, and scribbled out our sign on the increasingly damp paper.

Except, we chose the wrong one.

Normally that wouldn't be that remarkable, but Riley and I are both editors by profession. As in, that's what we do for a living. So here we are, attempting to display a cleverly worded homage to a classic movie atop the Cliffs of Moher, a place where I doubt I will ever go again in my life, and we spell it WRONG. Oh, the irony of it all.

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So anyway, I'm tempted to send in a copy of this picture with an accompanying explanation tomorrow instead of the finished manuscript. It may shred my reputation with the publisher, but it's nearly midnight and I've spent way too many sleepless nights avoiding this job to give in an get 'er done now...

*By the way, the two stations are Mansion House and South Ealing