Ooooh. Today I understand soooo fully why some blog anonymously. What can I say? Nothing, really, except that things are happening right now that I wish WEREN’T. >sits on fingers to avoid typing<
*Changing the subject* So, the solution to Destructo Boy’s affinity for playing outside? Me sitting outside in a lawn chair with a REaL BooK. One that I don’t HAVE to read. Because lord knows that I can’t give it my full attention, don’t have the opportunity to be thinking hard enough to write notes as I read, etc.
I’ve got Citizen Girl from the public library (Laughlin/Kraus), and it is exactly what I need: fun. Nothing more. Not making me think too hard, just letting me revel in life-that-is-not-hers (and have a little envy that my life is not hers).
Oh, but now I must away to the *work* that I have been guilt-tripped into finishing. I would rant here, but I can’t, about how people are manipulative, inconsiderate, and credit-taking. But because I CARE (about people writing), I will do the work.
I will heavily allude here, so those of you close might infer the HELL to which I refer: The group for whom I slave is disorganized, said they’d pay me and they haven’t, and now, for the second year in a row, I spend late nights cussing InDesign trying to figure layout and paginations for a book that is truly…, well, I simply cannot use an appropriate adjective here to describe it. Because I don’t think there is one.
Of course, this is only partial cause for my general dis-ease. But this mini-rant is enough for now. I already feel better (though the Yellow Tail has helped as well).