Sandy ate my week


Despite being hardly hit by the hurricane at all (being very far inland and away from flooding), Sandy managed to suck away my entire week.

This due to the fact that I had been under the impression that the DayJob office was closed on Tuesday, when in fact it was open!  And no one told me!  In fact, we were told specifically that it was expected that the office would be closed until Wednesday, and if it was not closed on Tuesday, we would be contacted.

But apparently, everyone else said to themselves: “Hm.  I wonder if the office is open.  Think I’ll give them a call, just to see.”

And I did not make that call.

Result: I missed a day of work.    Which I then made up by working extra hours the remaining days.  Ack.

I did that largely out of worry that they might force me to use one of my three remaining days off to compensate.

And those days off are already committed: since we get Thanksgiving Day off (by law), and we are always given the day after Thanksgiving off (by custom), I can use my sad little three remaining vacation days for the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of that week, and Voila!   A entire week off!

As I often do on holidays, I shall eschew celebration and run away to an undisclosed location.   Sabine, on the other hand, will hang out with friends, laugh, talk, schmooze, eat turkey, drink wine, and watch holiday shows on TV, unencumbered by grouchy authors who just want to be left alone to write, thank you.

This time my undisclosed location is a place I actually have to fly to — and I’ve bought the ticket.  Which is non-refundable.   So I’ve got  to go!

So, now that Sandy’s over with (and the next big storm is on the way), let’s see about catching up on the important work.   As in: non-DayJob.

Back at the library, and here’s your random quote:


He pulled out a thick blue folder.  On the top page, the words were typed in bold black letters: “Proof of Existence, Community #4, Unit # 125091, Head of Unit: Nguyen, Khuon T.”

“This number, 125091,” he explained to my mother as his thick finger ran across the cover page, “is your family’s number.  We don’t like to use the word family.  It’s too personal, too alienated from the whole.   We refer to each family as a unit, like in biology — the single cells that make up the body.   A word of advice: you should guard this paper with your life.  For the time being, this is your identification.”

The Unwanted by Kien Nguyen, 2001, Little, Brown & Company, publishers


And then he went on to write novels.

From the back flap: "Kien Nguyen was born in Nhatrang, South Vietnam, in 1967 to a Vietnamese mother and an American father. He left Vietnam in 1985 through the United Nations Orderly Departure Program. After spending time at a refugee camp in the Philippines, Nguyen arrived in the United States. He is now a dentist in New York City.


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