Today I foisted two sleep-deprived children upon their father so that I could spend some quality time freaking right the hell out about how much time I spent coughing and sleeping and generally NOT WORKING last week. The girlchild was literally curled up in the corner when I arrived to fetch her at 9:00 this morning. Did you have a good time? Yes. Are you okay? Yes. Are you SURE? I... I... I'M TIIIIIIIIRED! It seems that the party was a smashing success, well through to 11:00 last night, but Chickadee was, shall we say, less than amused when the birthday girl chose to wake her up via...
Things are really rolling along, now, job-wise. There are many stages of successful self-employment, you know. It's not unlike the stages of grief, really: Some people will progress through the stages in order, but most will have some skipping around as they move through. I myself have already spent a fair amount of time bouncing between the various states. Stage 1: DENIAL I decided to do WHAT? Oh good lord. Have I been drinking? Was this a BET? Does anyone know the symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning...? Stage 2: ANGER You know, this is all my 10th grade chemistry teacher's fault. That...
I'm so glad to have a keyboard with which to communicate. It's a beautiful thing. And also, I am currently choking on my tongue--which I swallowed a few minutes ago--so talking isn't really an option right now. No talking. Just breathing. I'm concentrating a lot on the breathing thing. Other people go out on Friday night, or whatever, but NOT ME. I sit at home and transcribe tapes and shop for office supplies and calculate how many months' worth of groceries I just spent. I'm a rebel that way. Once I'm all done hyperventilating maybe I will tell you all about the scintillating life of being...
The time has come, the walrus said, to realize that your desk is littered with legos and Polly Pockets and coloring book pages and trading cards.... Kidding. I've never met a talking walrus. Although it is true that my children tend to deposit all manner of items either on or near my computer, probably because that's where they most often find me. I have asked them, time and time again, to please NOT leave their stuff all over my desk. I have begged, and I have pleaded. I have reminded them that the desk is for the computer, and working. I have pointed out that their accumulated toy...
Welcome to the third and final chapter in this series. After tonight, I'll have nothing left to confess for a while. I think. I still can't remember where Jimmy Hoffa is, but that could change after a few more treatments. *twitch* So. If you read Chapter 1, you know that I'm often plagued by a variety of guilt-inducing concerns, both large and small. And if you read Chapter 2, you know that some of my recent wallowing had to do with being unlucky in love. It stands to reason that Chapter 3 be the crowning glory in a series of regrets, no? I don't think this will disappoint. But how, you ask,...
One of the problems with, you know, having a job in a place where there are ultimately some sort of customers, is that--sooner or later--if you're an intolerant snob (such as myself), you will eventually arrive at the inescapable conclusion that People Are Stupid. And yes, even Stupid People (heck, sometimes ESPECIALLY Stupid People) contribute to the great "Circle of Life" known as "My Paycheck," so it's hard to complain about them without sounding ungrateful and bitchy. This will not deter me, of course, because I'm already well aware that I'm ungrateful and bitchy. And maybe--just...
1) Even the world's most selfish child will offer three of her six chicken nuggets to her sobbing brother who insists that he most certainly did NOT ask for that cheeseburger. 2) Do not bother trying to clarify to a small pacifist that it is technically impossible to avoid all of the tent caterpillars on the driveway while pulling in. Just agree that you avoided them all. 3) When your child's therapist says that things are "much more productive" when you attend sessions rather than your ex, try not to gloat. Also resist the urge to share this information with him. Just schedule all future...
I haven't shared my job description, here, and I know that some of you probably wonder why. Oh, sure; I say it's for anonymity and not mixing work and blog and blah blah blah blah. But that's not the whole story. The truth is... *deep breath* I feel a little inadequate. I WANT to be cool. So much. But there are so many cooler people out there. I can't measure up! I... I... I suffer from title jealousy. Please don't think less of me. I'm struggling with my problem, and trying to overcome it. Today I found myself working with a list of industry colleagues. What I was doing with the list (and...
That's right. It's almost 1:00, and I'm still in my jammies. So are the kids. (In their jammies. Not mine. That would be a wee bit too much "family togetherness," don't you think?) It's raining out and we're not going anywhere, so instead we're eating pizza in our jammies and watching endless episodes of "Teen Titans." My fictitious children (read: my planned-for children, before I actually had children, and, you know, got smacked upside the head by Real Life) never watched more than an hour of television per day, and they never watched anything with any type of violence. My real children...
