The multiplicity that is my life:
Submitting a story to the New Yorker, just to say I did. Plunging out the toilet. Getting kicked by my three-year-old hard enough to get a bruise. (Spanking to follow.) Juggling babysitter needs with a friend. Finding out an absolute asshole of a blogger has gotten a book contract (may his book--and there will be just the one--languish on the 75% off tables). Spending too much time and money at Linens-N-Things. Marvelling over how a suggestion from the critique group has absolutely revolutionalized the character and plot of my latest book. Printing my third book for personal review and discovering that maybe it reads a teensy bit better than I thought. Finding a scooter under my bed. Lamenting extra five pounds in new full-length mirror. Collecting old clothes and toys for a charity garage sale. Threatening kid with death if he sasses me (again). Threatening (again). Figuring out (again) that threats don't work and sending him to his room. Taking hyper puppy and two whining kids on a walk. Washing dirty clothes. Folding clean clothes. Repeat. Finally cleaning kitchen. Attending a cocktail reception for JR Moehringer, Pulitzer Prize Winner, at the Denver Press Club.
What the fuck am I gonna wear?
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