Here we go — final installment of the Do Not Disturb series. As soon as I finished posting my last blog entry, I thought, eh, maybe I should give that damn novel a try. I liked the first chapter — am I just resisting the rest of it because that’s my default?
Anyway, an hour and six chapters later, I learned two things.
First, Frieda McFadden's Do Not Disturb was a good novel regardless of what the learned people of r/books seemed to think.
Second — and more consequential — this book was not a bedtime ride, unless your idea of bedtime was staying up all night to finish it.
I expected a gentle literary lullaby. What I got was three shots of espresso, intravenously. There was no drowsy fade-out — just a hijack. Quinn was on the run, and my neurons were too.
Anyway, I quickly brushed JoJo and off we went to sleep.
The next day? One of those days. Everything went well:
morning yoga — check,
JoJo walk — check,
reach office earlier than planned — check,
no indulgence in junk food — check,
finished boss's ad hoc request in record time — check.
And then, we get the bombshell news during lunch break:
All the toilets on the west side of the building are broken.
Employees are free to work from home — ahem, run away from the sewer smell — for the rest of the day!
So here I was, home by 1:15. Quick potty break for JoJo, then chipping away at work till 3.
Then — as much as I knew it was time for a short nap — my brain goes: Bro! Why don't you read on your phone for a bit? You know you fall asleep in 15 minutes.
How did I fall for that?
Well, the next thing I knew, I’d finished ten more chapters. No emails. No messages. Only JoJo slapping my bed with her tail and rubbing her head against the side to get attention.
A few belly rubs later, I was deep in the weeds again.
By then, I’d stopped pretending. No more deals, no more “just one more.”
I knew I wasn’t working out that evening, and I wasn’t even sorry.
God damn you, Frieda, what are you doing to my life?
The only path to inner peace was finishing that book.
Around 6 PM — my usual workout time — I realized I was already late in giving JoJo her dinner. But really, that was the only thing standing between me and peace.
So, I moved JoJo's snuffle mat close to my bed so she could eat in my presence while I kept tracking Quinn Alexander’s escape.
Post-dinner, JoJo napped for a bit. And then there she was again, at 7 PM, this time giving me the Father, have you abandoned me? look.
My smart ass plotted. I ordered JoJo to the bed, plopped up the pillows, and lay behind her as she settled down.
Why? This was the quintessential multitasking dog dad moment.
I was perfectly positioned to deliver some lazy belly rubs while wrapping up that intoxicating novel.
Finally, at 7:45 PM — less than 24 hours in — I finished it.
How did I feel?
I hated my life.
Not because of the book, but because I know this story.
Every time I finally hit my rhythm, some new version of Prince Charming — Princess Charming, in this case — swoops in and throws me off course.
And I let it happen.
Every. Damn. Time.
Fast-paced novels are not for me, at least not during the week.
I felt guilty for getting sucked into Quinn’s post-murder escape like a vortex.
As I walked JoJo around the northern loop (we also have a southeastern and a southwestern loop), I thought maybe I should email the author — tell her how good her book was that I hated myself for reading it!
Hey, at least JoJo got her long night walk.
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