Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Still not back

It's all an illusion. I'm totally not here. Not writing. Not complaining that life is spinning out of control. But I do have more bullets! Aren't you glad. *cough*
  • The husband has scheduled help with the roof for March. As in, four weeks from now. He's lived in this area his entire life. He should know by now that March means Mad Angry Rainy Snowy Hell. And yes, I realize I used an 'S' instead of the 'C' but I couldn't come up with anything else. Back off.
  • The birth certificate has not been found. I searched for an hour this morning. Not only was it not where it belongs, it was not in any of the eleventy million piles of crap residing in my house. The best part? When I informed the husband of this news, I got the impression he would try leaving the country anyway. So I mentioned "they" have been saying he won't get back into the country so please for all that is good and holy and my sanity, please do not do it. Then he laughed.
  • And then? I killed him.
  • He says he will send for us when he must remain in Canada for the rest of his days because this country won't let him back in.
  • My husband, he is a joker. I can tell he is also planning on ignoring me and traveling to Pontiac, Michigan by way of Canada. Maybe it is just his way of getting out of fixing the roof.
  • Regarding the search this morning, it caused me to be late to work. It also caused me to have a near panic attack because of all the piles of crap in my house. I'd like to go home with a giant garbage bag and toss it all. Without looking at it. But I know that I can't do that. Things might be lurking in the piles. Important things. Things we may need one day. Things like our birth certificates which I will surly find the moment he leaves the country.
  • In other news, my youngest needs glasses for reading. Not a high stressor but a stressor none the less as he is not used to them and he will probably need them tied to a string to his wrist so he does not lose them.
  • Another of my children is trying to kill us with the willfulness and tantruming and the being extremely difficult about everything. Everything like getting dressed and going to bed and putting on pajamas and brushing teeth and eating and breathing. I may just duct tape him to his bed and soundproof his room.
  • A couple of weeks ago I received an e-mail from a Big Name Children's Book Editor. One I've had contact with in the past. One who was not impressed with my work. But suddenly an e-mail with her name attached arrived in my inbox. I saw it was regarding a manuscript I had never heard of. It was also addressed to a Big Time Children's Author whom I happen to know has a daughter that shares my first name. I also happen to know they sometimes collaborate on books together. I will admit to not letting Big Name Editor know immediately about the error. I read their correspondence (about 3 e-mails - apparently I was the only one who noticed the error) before doing the right thing and notifying the BNE of the error. It was a sad surge of hope that died a sudden and painful death. Sometimes fate is cruel.
Now I must get back to work. Nothing to see here. Move along. I'm not really here.

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