(You can’t see me, but I’m still squealing!)
So we had to list three things other authors have that we covet, and I listed:
1) The incredible discipline that prolific writers have.
2) Jennifer Crusie’s seemingly effortless ability to be funny
3) JK’s car. I don’t even know what it is, but I covet it
Insert one “I’m sick of listening to your damn neurotic whining” husband:
“They weren’t born with some discipline gene you’re missing. They work their asses off. You procrastinate. And how do you know that chick being funny is effortless? She probably works her ass off. See a connection? The things you covet require working your ass off. As for the Harry Potter woman and her car, you drive a ’67 Mustang. If that’s not good enough for you, then go work your ass off.”
My response could have spontaneously combusted an entire roomful of blue-hairs, so I won’t repeat it. I hate when he does that to me. Women claim men don’t understand them. No. They do, they’re just smart enough not to go there. (Ask him next week what HE covets and his answer will be sex.)
In other news, the tall kid’s school does these nifty spirit days where they all wear some specified article of clothing. This, of course, turns into a debacle similar to “I signed you up to make 6 dozen cupcakes for tomorrow.”
The “Favorite Football Team” shirt was no problem. We look like a New England Patriots warehouse around here. Their school birthday t-shirts were provided by the school, so no problem there.
Tie-dye. Do I look like I have tie-dye stuff in my house? (Rhetorical question, of course.) And I’m told these things about 20 mins before we leave for school. So when my child has to go to school with no hippy shirt to show his school spirit, that is, of course, my fault.
Today? T-shirt from another country. :wtf: We leave for school at 8:30. The child mentions this urgent matter at 8:20.
My kid went to school spiritless last week and, by God, he will have spirit this week if it kills me. I’ll go door to door begging from the neighbors if I have to. So…rummage, rummage, rummage…a t-shirt from the 1993 Canadian Grand Prix!
So, today—for now—I’m a good mom. Until the short kid finds out we’re out of Halloween Oreos. And that I might have eaten some of them at 2am when I was working my ass off. Then I’ll be The Worstest Mom EVAH again.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.