Years ago, Dad asked me if there was a JFK assassination moment in my life. One where everybody in my generation could say, instantly, where they had been, what they’d been doing. How they felt. I do not know anyone in my generation who cannot tell me where they were when the Challenger exploded. I was on my way to school with Dad, in our little old orange Datsun, when it was announced on the radio. I couldn’t believe it. Some part of me still can’t. I went in to…
*flop*
I have gone to the post office*, shopped for cat food, forgotten to stop and get myself more raspberries, eaten healthily, cleaned the kitty litter, swept the downstairs, emptied the garbages, made applesauce, cleaned the kitchen, emptied the compost, taken the recycling out, washed the diaper wraps, started laundry, made dinner, worked on a short story and written 1200 words on my book, all aside from, y’know, Mommy Duties. I’m wrecked. *Ted did the heavy lifting, literally, on that chore, so I probably shouldn’t put it on my list, but…
thinks…
…that really need doink around this house: – empty garbages – change kitty litter – laundry – vacuum – install cupboard/draw guards!!! – make ranch dressing work stuff: – finish old races story for SubPress – work on proposal
So there.
I was off to a depressingly slow start with writing this morning when I got an email notification that J. Peterman had updated its “last chance” department. Among the items with drastically reduced prices were the stunning tiered skirt and the high collared blazer. I declared that if I reached 1200 words by 10am I was damned well going to buy them. Thirty minutes later, at 9:50am, I had written 850 words, which put me over 1500 for the day, and I damned well bought them. And the blousy shirt…
tomorrow
Tomorrow I need to call the dentist and go register to vote. It would also be nice to go to baby group, but whatever.