Caterwauling

Ordinarily, I’m not fond of Wednesdays. They tend to have a few dark clouds over them. Today, though, the one Big Thing that doesn’t always go easily, well, went splendidly. And for that, the horah was danced.

It’s just EVERYTHING ELSE that’s been crap.

I had my office door closed all day. I opted to not put on makeup because I got busy right away and, hell, why put on makeup for only a couple of hours at the end of the day?

I need to somehow write 5,000 words for my NaNoWriMo project. Like, tonight. Good news is that the deadline is midnight. Better news is that it’s midnight in a time zone that’s a few hours behind mine!

This morning, everything started going haywire, from cat antics to jamming my new vacuum cleaner with the cat leash to smoking up the house because of it. Then I ironed all sorts of clothes and not only wore the wrong shirt out of the house, but I also FORGOT my blazer that I’d planned to wear. Hence half the reason for hiding in the office all day.

But wait, there’s more.

So I cut the back of my thigh shaving. I didn’t bother putting on pantyhose until sometime around noonish, at which time I realized I’d bled all over my light-gray office chair. (And neither that stupid Tide stick nor those Shout wipes will do the trick, goddamn it.)

It was one of those days that I REALLY needed to go outside for some fresh air midday — whereupon I see I messed up my light-gray car seat. Hot damn.

At lunch, I got an eggnog latte (mmm) and a sammich. I also bought cat food, as the girls are starving. I also bought a sweet treat for the end of the workday, as that sugar rush is crucial. Well, guess who forgot the sweet treat in the car but who DID bring in a can of fucking cat food? Christ.

That would be the same girl who dropped her half-eaten focaccia sandwich on the floor that hasn’t been vacuumed since, um, APRIL. That would be “fuckaccia” in my world!

*waves goodbye to lunch, hello to bread and meat droppings all over the floor*

And you know how much I hate UPS, but really, I hate companies more that refuse to ship to P.O. Boxes. I have been waiting and WAITING for a product that I need to, oh, supplement my health, shall we say.

And because I hate the semantics of having to have UPS deliver it to my house (where I never AM) and then re-route my packages to the UPS office in my ‘hood where I have to stand in line 100 years and deal with snarky, cranky-ass employees, I had it sent to work.

Days have gone by, and no sign of the package. So I went to track it today, only to find that I never put a company name with the address and UPS wanted to send it back. So I had to call and beg for it to be redelivered for tomorrow. And the thing is? I blame no one but myself. I’m so accustomed to shipping shit TO MY FUCKING P.O. BOX that I didn’t think to type in the company name, just the street. *big sigh*

If it doesn’t come tomorrow, I am so totally blowing my brains out.

I’m sure there have been a thousand other irritants, but I’m getting really depressed, just reading about my day that isn’t even the slightest bit close to ending yet. Whee.

The newscasters must have been watching me drive home tonight when they thought they spotted a tornado possibly about to rip through D.C. proper. Because it should always take between 5:45 p.m. and 8 p.m. to get home from work. Jesus Christ.

And seriously? It really does rain less in Seattle. I’m sick of this crap.

More lovely randomness ahead. Slippery when wet, kids. Tread carefully.

MMM, ITALIAN

Mom makes the best stuffed shells on the planet. She uses meat. Mmm. I really need to get her sauce and filling recipe. The woman is a magnificent cook. She sent shells home with me and I snarfed ‘em up tonight. Yum.

WARDROBE CRISIS

Oh, and WTF is “festive business attire”? Anyone? Because I need to come up with something, stat. Preferably something that doesn’t make me look like a sparkly Macy’s parade float. Which, admittedly, is overly likely no matter what I do.

WAXING POETIC

Today’s my friend Shan’s birthday. Happy birthday, girl! Thank you for being such a spectacular friend so that I could see how easy this friendship thing is supposed to be. Good friendships take work, of course, but we both learned that it shouldn’t *feel* like work. Yay for us finding each other in this world and keeping close despite 3,000 miles between us. We haven’t lost a minute, and I love you for that.

HOLD-MY-HAIR-BACK-WHILE-I-PUKE CUTE

I talk to Shan’s daughter Alex on the phone all the time. She’s 2 1/2 and as smart as can be. Love that kid. Normally I hate when people put their kids on the phone (I have old blog entries that I pulled offline that can prove it), but when Alex wants me, I’m thrilled.

She got a new babydoll the other day. Shan called me to put Alex on the phone, who happily chattered that she named her doll “Aunt Dawn.” How nauseatingly CUTE is that?!?!

SAY WHA?!?!

I was joking with Mom (who is so psychic I cannot stand it) when I’ll be able to find a son-in-law for her (hence, a good guy for me). She said she really didn’t know, but she sees a grandson, if I choose to have it. *eeek!*

The funny thing? Much as I hate kids (minus Alex, natch), I always figured I’d want a boy over a girl. And only one — god, only one. I can barely manage two cats who, for the past two nights, have gotten treats for dinner because I have yet to buy them wet food.

Based upon my conversation with Mom above, I had the weirdest dream last night. Yes, I was knocked up. Yes, it was a boy. Yes, there was actually a father somewhere in the dream. And I got dialogue for the book I’m ALMOST DONE WRITING. Whee!

NANOWRIMO: THE EPILOGUE

45,000 / 50,000 (90.0%)

National Novel Writing Month is drawing to a close. I’m hovering at 45,000 words. No sleep tonight, kids. I’m only halfway through my outlined scenes at this point, but I’m going to keep going. I owe it to my characters.

And I wrote it fairly bare-bones — no real details like scenery and colors and crap like that. It’s mainly inner monologues and dialogues — almost journalistic in the approach, waffling between editorializing and reporting. And soft-core porn. This thing could very well spiral into the 100,000-word abyss stretch when all is said and done.

Boy, have I screwed up their lives. Heh. Makes me feel SO much better about my own! Well, sort of.

FUNNY HOW THE TORNADO ALERT ENDS NOW THAT I’M HOME

From AlertDC: “The National Weather has canceled the Tornado Watch for the District of Columbia and surrounding jursidictions.” Whee.

There was a letter somewhere in the proximity of my front door when I dragged my ragged ass home a few minutes ago. Seems it wasn’t an eviction notice, but a rent increase.

A $100-a-month rent increase.

Starting, oh, THURSDAY.

Goodbye, cable. The TV is dying a quick death anyway. So much for getting a new one.

My abhorrence of my existence grows.

Reader Poll Monday:

1. What is the most annoying ringtone you have ever heard?
I hate all those old-school ringtones that are *supposed* to sound like a song but really sound like you’re hitting all the buttons on your Commodore 64 keyboard at the same time.

Hell, I just hate when the phone rings in general. Because nobody calls to say hello anymore — they only call when they want something. Hence why I never, ever make a call — you know I’m desperate or dying or that I’ve thought about it really hard before I got the cajones to dial.

2. What is the best Christmas or holiday CD ever?
My hatred of holiday music is overwhelming. But c’mon, who doesn’t love Vince Guaraldi? Even my cold widdle heart melts for that one. (Because I *~*heart*~* “Peanuts.”)

3. Is there snow on the ground where you are?
I just drove through Somerset, Pa., on Thursday, where it was snowing like a mofo and the streets hadn’t been salted yet. And boy was my car a hideous salt fest for the weekend as it snowed in Pittsburgh at the same time and I could only get into Mom’s and my cars by going through the trunk and throwing my ass against the driver’s side door from the inside. Whee. Yay fat ass.

But here in Virginia? Not a drop, although on Wednesday night, I was doing laundry and running around in flip-flops as it snowed. The shit didn’t stick. Good times.

4. Would you rather crap over a beehive in the woods or on the sidewalk in Manhattan?
Hoo boy, that’s tender meat you’re talking about. Gimme a Manhattan sidewalk instead of the hive. I *~*heart*~* my hoo-ha in its working condition, thanks.

5. What is in the perfect omelet?
Mmm, sausage and cheddar. Or spinach and feta. Depends on the day, but always one of those two.

6. When do you consider it appropriate for a woman to use the clearly marked men’s restroom in a restaurant, bar or other public space?
Um, when there are eleventy frillion women waiting in line at the girls’ room. Or when it’s flooded. I don’t know — I have no shame. I’ve used many a men’s room in my day. They’re no worse than the dry-roasted ass smell in most ladies’ rooms.

7. Do you use compact flourescent light bulbs?
Say wha? No idea. I buy “cheap.” That’s all I notice — the right wattage at the right price.

8. Paper or plastic?
Paper IN plastic. Screw the environment — I’m so NOT a tree-hugger.

9. What career should my friend Janet consider after she has made enough money to escape the prison of student loans (she’s currently an attorney)?
There is no escape. Because she will be 80 and her career choices will be Wal-Mart greeter or bingo night organizer.

10. Ask me something.
Will you be heading to H&M for your next clothes-shopping odyssey?

Subtitle: Ze pain! Ze PAIN!!!

This weekend, I helped my ailing mother and grandfather move into a lovely rented house high atop a hill. In sum, I:

That last one is my favorite. I’m sure there are more, but Mom has threatened to beat me (when she’s able to move her arms again) if I blog the move. Heh.

The house is so cute. I’m not embarrassed to pull up to it like I was with the last one. I am scared, though, that the move was too hard on my family — I was terrified to leave them.

They couldn’t thank me enough, but I told them I was just repaying Mom for that week we spent packing my shit to move from Mount Washington (Pittsburgh) to Virginia. Especially the night my smoked-glass coffee table top shattered into seventy billion pieces on the street at 3 a.m. (damn heat — it burst in my hands as I carried it).

As we were vacuuming (the street, yes) and sweeping the mess, the cops came — thinking we were on crystal meth and out of our minds. Well, the latter half was true, and they let us carry on. Whee.

I hate moving. And my own is coming up entirely too soon. …

Yinz all have a happy holiday now, y’hear?

I’ve been writing furiously for my NaNoWriMo project because, alas, it’s a holiday month. Not that we’ll celebrate the holiday, but I’m going to go north for a few days to help Mom move.

I’ve enjoyed being ahead of schedule with my word count. Unfortunately, I’ll come back 5,000 words behind schedule. But like I can’t bullshit my way through those last 10,000 words in a few days. Sleep? What’s that? Like fresh air and daylight (other things I’m deprived of), apparently I’ve had enough in my life.

I’ve fallen in love with my characters. I’ve finally gotten a real picture of them — what they look like, what their natures and demeanors are, where they’re going to be (theoretically) in 10 years. Hell, I know them better than I know myself at this point.

The break will be good for the imagination, I hope. I know my fingers will be itching to be typing while I’m gone. I also hope that, after I take a break in December — to catch up on the ever-elusive lifestyle maintenance things I’ve neglected due to being away from home too many hours a day and then staying up all night writing (example: I did five loads of laundry tonight — that only removed 50% of the dirty clothes from my bedroom floor *sigh*) — I’ll be able to fall back into the groove of finishing the book and doing a really good edit on it.

In the meantime, it’s my last chance (for now) to feel like I’ve kicked ass, so allow me just a moment to brag a lil bit:

40,000 / 50,000 (80.0%)