The next day, as I'm packing for my trip to Florida, making sure I've got enough copies of my books for librarians I plan to see or give-aways, and plenty of bookmarks, I take a break to have lunch with my mother and notice that my glasses have broken. Being that I'm almost completely blind without them and I've got to go through airports with a gazillion security screenings then next day, this is a very bad thing. I rushed over to my optometrist to see what he can do. He tells me that if I'm willing to leave my glasses, he will order new frames and overnight them to me in Florida. I will ge them Saturday. This still leaves me traveling blind, but do I have a choice? I take option #1. And luckily, all went well and I arrived in Florida in one piece.
But last night as I was suffering from jet lag and dozing off to sleep, I thought of Jamie Wood Martinez, who was on the author panel with me the other day and how she was talking about how she questions what it means when these rotten things happen to her. She spoke about how she "caused herself" to have car accident on the way to a book signing once, because she was nervous about going.
So, am I subconsciously, mystically bringing these accidents into my life? What does it all mean? Maybe that I should be home writing my proposal that my agent is waiiting for rather than traveling all over the US promoting a book that is already written? Possibly.
Or maybe my tire was old, my glasses frame was old and they both needed to be replaced.
Just in case, I'm going to get that book proposal done while I'm on my book tour out here in Florida . . .