On The Daily

On The Daily

This was my yesterday.

Got up and let out Pablo while wearing my booty shorts and t-shirt. Yes, Retired Old Man neighbors, the show is free. Realized I need to pick up a lot of dog shit if I’m gonna get Sid to mow my lawn any time soon. Realized the lawn is about to grow up over the windows. Consider why we don’t live in a hermit shack out in wilderness with no neighbors for the millionth time.

Ate breakfast. Sighed over my to-do list.

Discovered I had FIVE HOLDS WAITING FOR PICK-UP at the library! Yay!

But the one book I really wanted was still IN TRANSIT. Boo!

Matilda has a friend come over and they actually clean up her bedroom. Because I bought a Monster High toy she wanted and that was the cost. I didn’t think she’d actually clean it, though. Matilda hates cleaning as much as I do. Score one for manipulation.

Spend morning obsessing over the playlist I’m going to use for the half marathon in Tacoma. Which is Saturday. Jesus H. Christ, I signed up to run 13.1 miles. On purpose. Try not to think about that very much. Dee dee dee.

Print out a ream of stuff for my grad school residency in Tacoma. Organize in a dorky way that only a perpetual student/teacher would do.

Eat a peach. Ask the girls if they want breakfast/lunch and they yell from the basement ‘NO!’ Nice. This is why I love it when Matilda has friends over. Less work for me.

Bring hamper of dirty laundry down from bedroom as the mister rarely does this unless I stand over him and yell. Wash said hamper.

Work on my query letter. Work on my first chapter of my finished manuscript. Get all obsessive. Doubt self. Think I curse too much in first chapter. Think that there’s too much sex in the first chapter. Remember I curse too much myself. Remember I like reading about sex. Remember the mister told me to shut it when it comes to second guessing. It’s fine, he says. It’s fine, I think.

Take a shower. Whenever I have writing problems, I take a shower. (Or a walk. Or a run.)

Decide it’s time for an airing. Tell the girls we’re going shopping. Have to explain we’re going to several places, Target being the last stop. This motivates them to empty Matilda’s piggy bank and insist we take a shitload of pennies to the bank so they can up their spending potential.

Do all this in 2.5 hours: go to bank with pennies, return the mister’s Red Box (Source Code, barf), recycle printer/monitor at Best Buy, attempt to find mp3 armband for my Tacoma race in Best Buy, fail, go to Ulta to buy my million dollar hair products for my damn curly hair, sell a ton of books at Half-Price Books (ROI, $11), catch the girls defacing the bookstore restroom with sudsy paper towels, bitch them out until they are silent and chastened (“Are these good choices?” etc.), go to Roseville Target, buy undies and appropriate clothes for my Tacoma race (Don’t Think About Half Marathon), wheel and deal with girls about crap they want to buy, don’t give in when they beg for extra cash, talk about curly hair and straightening tools with Target cashier, girls cadge two extra bucks because they didn’t factor in tax when they did their math, drive home.

Eat a sandwich. Make sandwiches for girls. Jen (Blond Friend #3) comes over and we watch  vampire porn True Blood at my sister’s. Consider how much I love Alexander Skarsgaard even when he’s wearing gym shorts and a sleeveless (sleeveless, ew!) hoodie. Wish I was married to a thousand year-old Viking instead of  someone who watches Source Code for pleasure.

Fill tub for Matilda with scalding hot water because I’m a terrible judge of temperature. (Living in South America gave me a predilection for very hot showers – sue me.) Hang a ton of laundry, as it’s now breezy and the forecast overnight is clear. Get bit by five thousand mosquitoes. Get interrupted by child five thousand times, because the mister is a) yelling on the phone with one of his brothers b) watching the BBC Sherlock Holmes (without me, the prick) c) not paying attention to his only progeny who needs cold water chucked in her tub so she won’t get flayed alive.

Stay up way too late reading.  First four chapters of The Ask and The Answer to Matilda. Then go to bed, the mister grouches at me:  “TURN OFF YOUR LIGHT!”

Go downstairs to the sofa to read Lauren Barnholdt’s Two Way Street. Which is extremely engaging and has excellent use of flashbacks, which is rare. Also the boy narrator cracked my shit up, because he’s totally unapologetic about his Abercrombie clothing and white-boy love of rap music.

Wake up with a huge backache. Sigh over my to-do list. Repeat.

 

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