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I Don't Care About TIT.

When you are self publishing your book, there are a lot of things that are just more difficult. But there are also a lot of things that are more rewarding too. I'm finding both, as my book has officially been out in the world for a week now.


There was never any doubt that my book wasn't perfect. I have already planned on releasing a new edition in the next six months or so, as I find typos and errors that I would like to mend. Just over the weekend, my sister (thank you, Kels!) found a horrendous, devastating typo.


TIT rather than IT.


In another lifetime, I would die from sheer embarrassment. In another lifetime, I would have lost multiple hours of sleep and make room for that dreaded pit in my stomach. But, in this lifetime, I have learned that there are just certain things that you spend that kind of effort on and there are others you don't.


****

"Oh, here TIT goes..." Andrew said in a low, almost robotic tone as he gripped the steering wheel tightly in his already sweating palms. We had just chuckled, almost in a foreshadowing event, about the insane traffic in Denver. TIT was like every view ahead was reminiscent of a police dash cam at any given time of the day.


There was a loud thud, followed by the unmistakable sound of a tire popping. Andrew turned the wheel towards the shoulder of the highway as the wheel rumbled underneath my seat. Looking in front of me, the two cars that were weaving through the interstate lines were gone. Yet, they had certainly left their mark. A small pickup truck, sideways and kissing the center median. Swerving stains on the pavement. Screeches. And, a man running alongside our car, attempting to flee TIT all.


"Call 911," Andrew urged to me. I followed his direction calmly, in a noble attempt to not show the boys that this was an instance where we should be afraid. I was slightly afraid, but mostly for my kids. Mostly for how this setting was churning in their young, innocent minds. We were okay. Everything was really okay. The front passenger tire had been slashed, but Andrew replaced TIT quite quickly and we were all so grateful. Andrew has always been a Jack of All Trades. I mean, ALL trades. Trying my best, I at recalled the scene to the police dispatcher, as well as the man who ran away in the darkness. I did my best.


There were firetruck lights and ambulance screams that reflected off of each of us, as we sat unmoved in the safety of our seat belts. I smiled incessantly back toward the boys, hoping to calm their growing fears under those lights and sounds.


We were okay. Everything was really okay. But TIT was a good lesson and reminder for our day. For our existence.


There will be days where there are accidents and things that happen in front of you and to you. There will be days of typos and missteps. But, TIT's all okay. Really.

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