1) "Oh no! No room in the spa after I've finished swimming! I'm going to ache all evening, grump, grump."
That's right, dear readers. I had to endure going straight from the pool to the shower one day last week with no steam room, sauna or jacuzzi to soothe my you-shouldn't-swim-for-a-whole-hour-then-should-you? aches and pains. It was absolutely murderous, I tell thee. (But I have learned not to bother with the gym in the evenings since it's full of people hotter than me. And faster than me, apparently).
I encountered a serious speciality meat-related problem earlier. I really did panic that it'd end up wasted for a moment or two. Then it occurred to me that if venison is my biggest problem, life probably isn't that bad.
This occurred when I referenced dear Patrick in a manuscript and my editor wasn't sure who he was. After I'd stroked my chin for a few minutes and possibly furrowed my brow, I realised that that it was possible some people hadn't encountered the works of Brett Easton Ellis, and to be surprised at such might make me worryingly like that postmodernism lecturer I hated with a passion at uni. You'll be pleased to hear that I have now revoked the policy of not talking to people if they haven't read The Intentional Fallacy.
What are your "get a grip" moments?