Okay, I’m not moving so much as my blog is moving. Yes, it’s true. I’ve recently launched my own web site. Please change your bookmarks accordingly.
The piece is live! Finally. Hoof it over and be sure to leave a comment.
Must. Sleep. Now.
I’m a horrible blogger. I’m sorry. Okay, maybe I’m not horrible at blogging—I’m horrible at keeping the blogs timely. The last week has been a whirlwind of time zones, red eyes and Microsoft Word. I’m almost mid-way through National Editing Month* and I feel like I’ve just run a marathon, despite the fact that I actually haven’t worked out in over a week. Ugh. Just another thing to add to the To-Do list.
I’ve had an awful time sleeping for the last couple months and one of my talk ladies suggested that I start waking up at the same time every day and cut out my beloved naps from my daily sched. First of all, “talk lady” is a fancy word for therapist. My mom made it up and I think it’s pretty appropriate. Secondly, yes, I have two talk ladies. My head needs to be shrunk that much. Third, this no nap thing is driving me batty! I’ve been waking up between 6 AM and 8 AM the past couple days and it feels so unnatural. I can only imagine what it’s going to be like when I rejoin the land of the living and meet up with the rest of the Average Joe workforce. I wonder if it’s poor form to keep a cot in my next office?
After I wake up with the dawn, I go to Caribou Coffee and rape them for their free Internet. It’s kind of awesome. I’ve been super-duper productive the past three days and if I keep up this kind of momentum, I think I can actually make my editing deadline at the end of the month (not like I have a choice or anything). Plus, it smells really yummy in here and they have these things called French Toast muffins that have completely been flirting with me. So far, I’ve been able to turn down their advances, but I’m not made of stone, people. I have a feeling that it won’t be long before we live a nice, long, delicious life together.
GGRGRGRGLGEGLGLRGGLLL
That was my stomach. It’s almost feed-time. I wish I could get all my daily nutrients from Diet Coke. Then I wouldn’t ever need to worry about satisfying the beast—and by “beast,” I mean “my stomach.”
* I made this holiday up. It doesn’t exist but it totally should. Who can I talk to about that? I smell a letter-writing campaign.
