|Let me tell you the story of the little engine that could--|
or that probably could have if it hadn't had a one month old living in the house.
Just so cute!
Tuesday my little article projection said that I would be thinking up the update schedule for the spring semester. Every time my schedule undergoes major change, I make sure that the current update schedule is plausible or if I'll end up in a fetal position by week two in a scalding shower whispering "it thrusts its hands against the posts but still it insists it sees the lotion in the basket." All things being equal, though, I'm sort of glad everything exploded this morning.
Oh don't I WISH that was a metaphor.
|Sometimes I tweak things on the fly.|
You see today I woke with a brisk spring in my step. Last week, I somehow managed to write an article for both Grounded Parents and Ace of Geeks without ever having a psychotic break and telling everyone who loves me that "I just need some fucking MEEEEEEEE TIIIIIIIIIIME!!!"and then finding a door to slam as hard as I could--even if I had to run upstairs to the guest bedroom since it slams the best.
I hopped out of bed, ready to rock. I was going to write the shit out of everything. I was going to write the shit out of today's post, then write the shit out of one of the other blog's next articles, then write the shit out of some fiction. Some days it's like your imagination just spent the whole night listening to "Eye of the Tiger" or something.
But then I got derailed. Immediately. Badly. Irrevocably.
Details are not important. You need only know that the new world order in this house played a pivotal role and there may or may not have been any of the following: a screaming cry to the heavens for saltines and sprite, a sick mom, an explosive "diaper incident" that shook my faith that "anything" can be cleaned with a baby wipe, Night on Bald Mountain playing when we tried to put the baby down for a nap, four hours of walking because The Contrarian was replying to every postulate that he was finally asleep with "I AM NOT!" or a trip to Costco that took three and a half hours even though I didn't even go through the DVD section or try to hit on the chick that gives out the samples of cheese soup.
But it did convince me that I might want to be a little more pragmatic about scheduling. If this had not happened, I may have made my schedule tomorrow with just a little too much optimism and lack of concern for how much effect baby can have on my ability to write whenever I choose.
In fact, if there are any Samurai Time Travelers out there who are living in a horrible post-apocalyptic war zone of horrors and who identify the haphazard update schedule of Writing About Writing as being the crucial turning point in the fall of the resistance, you need to come back to 10:00 this morning and undo the derailment of today. I will never reconsider my decision to update like mad. I will go into writing it tomorrow having never had my stark optimism crushed by a five week old's poop. Admiral Akbar would never have uttered the immortal phrase: "The lining of this diaper can't repel blowout of this magnitude." We wouldn't have spent thirty minutes just changing him and an hour just getting out the house to go to Costco, and I never would have doubted my entire ability to update with measured predictability.
Save the onesie, save the world.