Everybody's pregnant. Have you noticed? Even my baby brother, is about to become a daddy. Makes me kind of sad and sort of half-way wish that maybe I could sort of have another, and then I snap out of it and realize how much I like not peeing my pants when I sneeze, and the mood passes.
And I've started shopping for a new aupair today, which totally sucks, because the one I have now is the best ever and I totally don't want her to leave. I mean, she actually calls herself "the queen of the butterflies" and if that isn't the person you want watching your kids, I just don't know who is. And as I'm shopping for aupairs, I started thinking "let's see, I'll need to do this again for hmmm, let's count...3, 4, 5 more years at LEAST. 5! Do you know how many years that is? And suddenly, I don't want a new baby anymore.
Friday, January 14, 2005
though I never officially entered the nanowrimo, I kind of half-assed started writing a novel that month...yeah, sort of like how I do everything else in my life. Eventually I printed certain parts of it, and began carting it around in my bag, in the hopes that I'd find a spare moment in my day in which I could change/add/re-do those parts I had printed. Well, one of those pages happened to be a part where the woman in the story was talking about a man she had just met and included cheesy romantic novel prose as in "drinking in his masculinity" and other nonsense.
My husband was snooping and found that page last night. At 1:30. In the morning. At which time he woke me up and accused me of having an affair. Now, my brain doesn't function all that well during waking hours not to mention when I'm sound the fuck asleep, so I'm pretty sure my response came out like "no, you put the toast in the pocket", which, as I can clearly see now, makes absolutely no sense, but then neither does reading someone's piece of crap partial "manuscript" and leaping to the conclusion that it's true.
FYI honey...if I take the time to type something and then take the time to proof read it and make corrections, it's probably a story, and not some super secret diary, K? Oh, and by the way, stay the hell out of my bag.
My husband was snooping and found that page last night. At 1:30. In the morning. At which time he woke me up and accused me of having an affair. Now, my brain doesn't function all that well during waking hours not to mention when I'm sound the fuck asleep, so I'm pretty sure my response came out like "no, you put the toast in the pocket", which, as I can clearly see now, makes absolutely no sense, but then neither does reading someone's piece of crap partial "manuscript" and leaping to the conclusion that it's true.
FYI honey...if I take the time to type something and then take the time to proof read it and make corrections, it's probably a story, and not some super secret diary, K? Oh, and by the way, stay the hell out of my bag.
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