Today I worked a lot to get things ready for my articles which are due two weeks from now.
I thought I had more than a month, but communication isn't one of the best things of the person who coordinates things at the moment. Glad I discovered it today in one of the loads of mail.
I also found out that the person who was supposed to make some appointments didn't do his job well, or the secretary involved is sloppy. One way or another it means a lot of improvisation.
I've decided to plan as many interviews and visits on location as possible on friday.
I've got two people who can drive me then. (One is the photographer, but he's not very willing to start early.)
Working that way is OK with me.
I used to work that way when I had a lot of requests for articles, and I'll see if it works now too.
Right now I've done quite some research on the different subjects.
This generated questions, and when it ripened in my thoughts I got some more questions.
Some questions can be answered by doing more research and some can be used in the interviews.
It also means some articles are almost ready.
This evening I got a very enthousiastic mail welcoming me on friday. That's good for the soul. :)
During the weekend I'll finish most of the articles and then they're in well before the deadline.
That's different from the past.
I hate deadlines and I used to watch them pass before I started to work.
Ofcourse I had always done my research and such, but working under pressure made me tackle a great lot of material and generate good texts. My head editor knew this, and took it into account.
I want to work different now, because life has far more surprised that cost time than it used to.
Tomorrow I have to go with my auti son to talk about the special needs benefits he gets. I told him he has to wait and see and not be nervous.
The doctor that was on his case said he could work 40 hours a week. Haha!
He can't deal with regular work at all.
When I objected against it I was called and told that my son was not finished learning. Yea, tell me. He learns so slow that he'll be 90 when he's mastered the most basic things of life: feeling the need to work and leave house with optimism and function in a job.
If he'll ever learn that.
They made me feel pushed in a corner and told I am the stupid one. So I asked them how it happened that I had been his morther for all those years and they know everything better.
Since that time we were mainly left in peace.
The meeting to check on the plans to make him work was postponed half a year until now.
Well, all they can do is withdraw his benefits. They will do that in the very near future anyway, because cut backs are made at the expense of the people with chronic disease, the disabled and other people with special needs.
The idea that he'll life at home until I die makes me feel panicky.