To all of my intrepid readers who wrote to say how hilarious my hubby’s prank was: I fear that you have inspired him to top himself. Who knows when, who knows where, but I do have some concern that further hijinks are in the offing. Watch this space for further details.
I have been far, far too busy lately. I’ve been working my tuckus* off, and yet not getting paid, for I, my friends, am the hugest sucker in the land. Aside from preparing business correspondence and grant materials, I’ve also been preparing presentation materials for a board meeting of the charter school that I’m pro bonoing for. I’ve also prepared a writing sample for a freelance short-term grant writing gig and created two writing samples from scratch for an online writer/editor job I’m applying for (yay me! I made it to the second round!). I’m also having lunches/coffee/whatever all over the damn place. And then I go pick up my Viva so she can abuse me horrifically.
What is that about? Well, my theory is that Viva has to behave all day at school, so when she gets home, her inner Saddam Hussein comes out. All I know is that I feel shell-shocked until Sweet Willie gets home, which is when she then vents her spleen upon him. I think we are in for a rough time until she is around 5, at which point things should smooth out a bit until she hits, say, 11 or 12. So at this point, we have to just strap ourselves down and ride it out. [Note: please do not correct me if I am wrong. Let me just splash happily in de waters of Denial.]
In somewhat related news, one of Sweet William’s high school friends, who is raising three children (one not her own), recently said, “I have to decide soon if I’m going to have another one. I mean, I’m running out of time.” And then she had the audacity to ask when we’ll be having another one. Let me say this: when someone invents a time machine allowing me to take the money Will and I have now, go back in time and invest in, say, Google, and magically retain the reproductive system I had when I was 25 – well, yeah, that’s when we’ll have another kid.
* Just out of (pardon the pun) anal-retentiveness, I Googled “tuckus” to make sure I was spelling it correctly. One of the links it spit out was this, which is certainly not for the faint of heart. I am pretty sure that I am glad I had never before heard of the Dirty Sanchez. No offense. But gaw!
In closing, your Simpsons quote of the day from Springfield newscaster Kent Brockman:
Things aren't as happy as they used to be down here at the unemployment office. Joblessness is no longer just for philosophy majors. Useful people are starting to feel the pinch.
End transmission. Over and out.