Something's Gotta Give...

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been sort of… blah … this week. A little bit down, a little bit tired, a little bit maybe getting sick, a little bit preoccupied.

In other words, a lot bit boring. Bo-ring!

I realized this morning what the problem’s been: I took on one more thing, and it turns out that – forget what you’ve heard about Thing One and Thing Two – Thing Six is the real troublemaker. I can’t work, and write, and drive Johnny to work, and work on the house, and blog, and do Thing Six… and still sleep and eat and, you know, bathe.

Something’s gotta go. And it can’t be the bathing. Trust me, you would smell me through your monitors from wherever you may be, even New Zealand (hi, Nana! Welcome home!).

And it can’t be the driving Johnny. I was wrong about the new job. He got it, but I still have to chauffer. And they’re paying him less than he was making before. Whole fractions less. So it can’t be the working (which was never really on the table anyway).

It can’t be the writing. It just can’t. Sucka MC would freakin’ kill me. And it can’t be Thing Six, ’cuz they’re related.

It can’t be the blog, because the blog (oh, hell, let’s just admit it) is supposed to be about getting y’all to know my name, so that when the book comes out you’ll tell your friends how charming and funny and just plain old delightful this Ellia woman is. Even if you do think her name is Prudence.

And it can’t be working on the house, because – aside from the fact that winter’s coming and my front door’s still propped in my back hallway – well, what else would I blog about? There’s only so much bra-shopping and Dirty-Jobs-Guy drooling I can——ooh!

I could combine them! Bra-shopping is a pretty dirty job. Think I could convince my boy to come over and help me out? I wouldn’t even mind the camera crew…

Oh no wait, that doesn't help, does it? But I actually just got goosebumps typing it.

How very sad.


Tune in later for the solution I’ve come up with. I've just decided I'm not working out today, for one thing. Oh. Working out. I guess that would make Thing Six Thing Seven after all. Oh well, Thing Six is funnier. Trust me, it just is...