God, I’m tired. It seems like I’ve been writing this book for about twenty years, but in actuality, it’s only been a little over six weeks. That’s a snap of the fingers in writing time to get an 85,00 word book written, but I really didn’t have a choice; you have to so what you have to do. But I’m starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, especially since as of this writing, my deadline is in TWO DAYS. But I had a bit of a parole the other night. I and my writer pal Linda Parisi attended a party at HarperCollins new headquarters in the Financial District, at 195 Broadway. A gorgeous building, beautiful offices, a great party. And I got to get out of my pajamas for a whole evening, wear big girl clothing and makeup and everything. Was wonderful catching up with my editor and the rest of her compatriots in the editorial department, as well as seeing some brand new RITAs above some desks. I had a wonderful time, and the mini sliders and lobster rolls weren’t so bad, either.
Hello all. Yeah, that’s me, looking like shit because I’m flying for three weeks now on about five hours of sleep a night. I believe it’s around two o’clock in the afternoon, who knows, because I’ve been up since six and since my office is down the hall from my bedroom, “getting ready in the morning” has lost all imperative. My morning ritual is getting up and turning on my laptop, checking the weather on my phone (because looking out the window is SO old school) shuffling into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of Cheerios and shuffling back to get a glimpse into the outside world via the New York Times online. Then it’s go make a cup of strong tea (thanx to pals Kate and Susan who’s supplied me with some diesel-strength loose), and off to Rex-land, the subject of which you’ll find out shortly. I think I last got a shower before noon about three weeks ago. Did you know that bras are not for indoor wear? My hair is actually past my shoulders, but who would know? I haven’t worn socks since May. I cannot remember the last time I ate a meal sitting down at a table, at least at home. All the rest have come out of paper containers. I got a modem upgrade from Comcast a month ago, but the box is still sitting unopened on my chair. My back hurts.
This is what my desk looks like. Those cherries have been sitting there for four hours, and the seltzer is warm and flat. The only time I’ve been getting out is for the summer class I’m teaching, but that’s three nights a week, so I never really see natural daylight. My ass hurts. I need to pay my utility bills, but it’ll take too much time. The only online time I have is to look up things like “French curse phrases” and see how things are pronounced on Google Translate. I need a pedicure. I need a massage. My husband hates me. My cats are scared of me. Got to go. I’ve already wasted too much time writing this.
Buy my book. Please.