Writing Wrongs

August 13, 2005

I don’t believe it. I packed up the marvelous Miss B. (Kyra) and her entourage and we headed to St. Paul so I could work for a few hours. Work being one of those relative terms when you have a three-year-old in tow.

I did get one document done, and decided to call it a day. Besides, the air wasn’t on, so it was stuffy and the lights are on automatic timers. I sit by the windows, but it was still hard to see.

Kyra was outraged by the markups on my documents. “People scribble your papers, Mommy!” Which is an accurate description of what software developers do to the install guides.

Right now, I’m so tired, I can’t work up the energy to confiscate the banana peels Kyra is using as her “money.” It’s my money, too. So I guess we’re rich for banana peels. And hey, she’s trying to count them, so it’s educational as well.

Oh, wait. She’s just put them all in the garbage (on her own volition). Looks like we’re bankrupt.

I don’t care how many people scribble on my papers, I’m not going to work tomorrow. I need to set up a printing press for a bunch of submissions, including one for a contest final (electronic entry, printed copy to editor) and my super-secret double probation project.

And maybe by tomorrow I’ll have something coherent to say about Bo, and Constantine, and all the crazed Carrie Underwood fans.

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 6:11 p.m.

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