Here's something you probably didn't know about me until 3 seconds ago: I suck at titles. Most of my novels, in fact, are titled by my editor. I suspect she puts several options on a dart board and makes all the staff throw darts as they pass her office, but I've never been able to confirm this.
It's 7:26 on Thursday night. I almost never attempt to write anything after sundown; you can not believe the deadline pressure I would usually have to be under to do so. However, my Beloved is downstairs exercising (don't give me that look, I worked out before dinner. I even broke a sweat.) and my daughter is at a holiday concert. It's not that I'm bored, more that I've gotten into the habit of blogging, and if I can do this it will count as writing and temporarily let me off the deadline hook for those articles I should be working on.
Meanwhile, I spent the day shopping. I was remarkably efficient, because I'd planned it all out, and I'm very pleased with what I accomplished, except that when I got home and was putting the gifts in strategic hiding places I discovered 1) something I bought last July as a gift for a relative, for whom I've now bought a second gift, and 2) a box of books and small accessories for my daughter's American Girl doll.
1) is not a problem. I can shift a Christmas gift to birthday, as long as I remember the gift then, and my dear relative will never even know. (If you're related to me, no, I'm not going to tell you if it's you.) 2) puzzles me exceedingly. My daughter's AG phase ended a few years ago. Could I have really gotten her these gifts and completely forgotten them? What was I thinking? (Or not thinking?) And why in the name of all that is sacred did I stick the box on the top shelf of the cabinet in the laundry room? If I hadn't happened to bathe the dog I might have missed it for another couple of years.
The AG stuff is also problematic. It's not worth enough to put up on eBay. My dear brother and sister refuse to provide me with a niece, only nephews, and none of my friends' girl children are the appropriate age, either. I'd put it on the "help yourself" shelf at Faith in Action, except that it's worthless without an expensive doll.
Talk about your first world problems.
Meanwhile, one of my favorite bloggers, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, (www.yarnharlot.ca) was stuck for something like eleven million hours in various American airports trying to fly home to Canada. She finally reached home last night, to this:
"My house looks like it was broken into by a marauding squad of macaques. No - let me be clearer than that. My house looks like someone had a party, put up a tree, left everything to do with all that lying around, then forgot about recycling day, cooked several meals while thinking about the disaster, then shopped for Christmas stuff and left that out while bringing the wrapping stuff upstairs without actually wrapping anything, left a suitcase in the living room, dried their hair, then brought in a weeks worth of mail, studied for a test, put a layer of skeins of yarn and knitting projects over the whole thing and then brought in drunken macaques to "clean up." That's what it looks like, and it was only when I sat down to blog I could see it all - and so now I'm totally going to have to clean it up, and that's why there's not a blog post about finishing. (The knitting kind.)"
Which has nothing to do with my blog. I just think it's hilarious.
It's 7:26 on Thursday night. I almost never attempt to write anything after sundown; you can not believe the deadline pressure I would usually have to be under to do so. However, my Beloved is downstairs exercising (don't give me that look, I worked out before dinner. I even broke a sweat.) and my daughter is at a holiday concert. It's not that I'm bored, more that I've gotten into the habit of blogging, and if I can do this it will count as writing and temporarily let me off the deadline hook for those articles I should be working on.
Meanwhile, I spent the day shopping. I was remarkably efficient, because I'd planned it all out, and I'm very pleased with what I accomplished, except that when I got home and was putting the gifts in strategic hiding places I discovered 1) something I bought last July as a gift for a relative, for whom I've now bought a second gift, and 2) a box of books and small accessories for my daughter's American Girl doll.
1) is not a problem. I can shift a Christmas gift to birthday, as long as I remember the gift then, and my dear relative will never even know. (If you're related to me, no, I'm not going to tell you if it's you.) 2) puzzles me exceedingly. My daughter's AG phase ended a few years ago. Could I have really gotten her these gifts and completely forgotten them? What was I thinking? (Or not thinking?) And why in the name of all that is sacred did I stick the box on the top shelf of the cabinet in the laundry room? If I hadn't happened to bathe the dog I might have missed it for another couple of years.
The AG stuff is also problematic. It's not worth enough to put up on eBay. My dear brother and sister refuse to provide me with a niece, only nephews, and none of my friends' girl children are the appropriate age, either. I'd put it on the "help yourself" shelf at Faith in Action, except that it's worthless without an expensive doll.
Talk about your first world problems.
Meanwhile, one of my favorite bloggers, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, (www.yarnharlot.ca) was stuck for something like eleven million hours in various American airports trying to fly home to Canada. She finally reached home last night, to this:
"My house looks like it was broken into by a marauding squad of macaques. No - let me be clearer than that. My house looks like someone had a party, put up a tree, left everything to do with all that lying around, then forgot about recycling day, cooked several meals while thinking about the disaster, then shopped for Christmas stuff and left that out while bringing the wrapping stuff upstairs without actually wrapping anything, left a suitcase in the living room, dried their hair, then brought in a weeks worth of mail, studied for a test, put a layer of skeins of yarn and knitting projects over the whole thing and then brought in drunken macaques to "clean up." That's what it looks like, and it was only when I sat down to blog I could see it all - and so now I'm totally going to have to clean it up, and that's why there's not a blog post about finishing. (The knitting kind.)"
Which has nothing to do with my blog. I just think it's hilarious.
Thank you for my smile for the afternoon. The gift forgetting sounds way too familiar. And I think the macaques are currently in my room.
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