Today is Friday, which technically concludes my week off from work, since it's the last work day I have off. Now we're just moving into the regular old saturday and sunday that I usually have off....listen to me talk about that like it's not good enough.
First world problems.
Anyway, it's been a pretty good week.
Deep cleaning the house, a quick trip to California, getting the kids' school shopping done, and meeting their teachers, and basically cleansing all the wild and unregulated "summer break" out of the house, and trying to usher the routine and regularity of the school year back in.
Both my kids thrive on routines, but Jackson can function without a very hardcore routine without much disruption to his general disposition, where as Lainie cannot.
Needless to say, on that note I am quite ready for the school year to begin.
Now that the pencils are bought and the backpacks filled, I will spend the better part of the next two days preparing 10 meals for the freezer, pre-packing 10 lunches for the next week, picking out first day outfits, and feeling a steady back and forth between melancholy and excitement for the fact that my youngest, my last, baby is starting school.
There will also therefor be wine and chocolate over dosing as well.
This is also the beginning of a brand new month.
August's goal was to start my book.
If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll tell you that I have technically started it.
In the last 8 months of this year, I have successfully written two whole chapters....and then hid them from myself so I wouldn't feel disgusted and throw them out when I re-read them.
This month though, it's time to stop fucking around.
I am going to tell my goddamn story, even if every single page isn't a masterpiece.
Even if none of the pages are a masterpiece...
Even if I accidentally tell the story of my sexual awakening in graphic detail, and then run into my high school art teacher in the grocery store, and have to hear her feedback on the part about my sexual awakening, and I can't find any way out of that conversation....
Even if I can't figure out how to end the book, and the story goes on and on and on, eventually strangulating on itself and dying a slow and embarrassing death in front of all five people who I might be able to convince to read my book....
Fuck, where's the wine?