Tres decadent, no?
Yesterday was a fun writing day—lots of plotting, planning, writing and much-needed enthusiasm—but my bubble got popped. Renewed meh factor heightened as I tried really hard to sleep, so I removed to the sofa so as not to keep the husband awake with what I call tossing and turning, but which he so lovingly refers to as barrel-rolling. I woke up still depressed, but with such a crick in my neck I look like Quasimodo and with cat hair all over me.
I’m told when my husband kissed my cheek and told me to have a good day, I snarled and bared my teeth at him.
Just a hunch, but I’m guessing Romanceland—with it’s ever-so-cheerful current climate—is not a good place for me to be today, so I shall arm myself with an old toothbrush and a box of baking soda and commence to scrubbing obscure corners of my house. Tis a far better plan than setting my laptop on fire in the driveway.
And…69 more days until school starts and I already want to take “Star Wars: Battlefront II” out of the PS2 and smash it into a bazillion pieces. Mostly because of the arguing, but also because the boys laugh every time it plays the “Imperial March” and I answer my cellphone only to find nobody’s calling me. I’m not changing my Darth Vader ringtone, dammit. It’s an integral part of my evil Sith Mom charm.