Work and NaNoWriMo

I brought work home with me this weekend.

It was two little presentations and usually I like the creative process of presentations. But, apparently, not on weekends.

I'd sit down to work on my novelette and the Presentation Nag would sit on my shoulder whispering in my ear. So I'd pull up the presentations and work on them. Fiddle fiddle fiddle.

Oh, but the Presentation Nag's cousin the NaNoWriMo Nag would then hop up on the other shoulder and remind me that I was very naughty because I wasn't feeling well on Friday and so I didn't write and then I didn't get around to it yesterday because I had mom stuff to do.

So today I plopped on the couch and worked on the presentations. Then I sent one over to Chris because frankly, he needed to make up the hours and I didn't because I have plenty of sick leave to accommodate my recent sickliness on account of the fact that I hardly ever get sickly and use my sick leave.

So he worked on it a bit while I blathered on in my novelette. Then he sent it back to me and I worked more than I'd hoped to have to on finishing it.

Finally, I finished it good enough and went back to "If You Get Stuck, Write Porn" which is the title of my book which, as it turns out, Bink has read the first half of and apparently likes enough to print and have her mother read. Although she says there is not enough porn in it. I'm sure she'll appreciate tonight's chapter, which has to do with incontinence and kegels.

So as of this post I am at 30,057 words - which is about 3,000 words ahead of where I have to be and about 5,000 words behind where I want to be. And I am annoyed at the job that actually PAYS me because, get this, I'm not as far ahead as I want to be on this crazy novel thing I've decided to do for no money whatsoever.

Sigh.

I'll be up early tomorrow, writing. Oh, and I've stopped a week early the twice daily dosage of Prilosec the doc put me on to heal my bleeding stomach because I've just spent the last week walking around with what feels like a big stone in my stomach which I am convinced is undigested food and, of course, I watch entirely too much House and so I am sure it is probably creating the human equivalent of a huge hairball.

The great big "carrying a rock around in my stomach" feeling has gone away but not, apparently, my food aversions - and this is why I nearly ran screaming from the couch when Chris came into the living room with his tuna fish (which, according to my ex-husband is redundant) but of course I couldn't because I was being weighed down by my writing responsibilities and those two nags on my shoulders.

I enjoyed taking a quick break to answer some interview questions sent to me by my sister. So Sis, if you're reading this, thank you thank you thank you for the excuse to take a break. That was the best part of the evening. Except, of course, for writing the following in my novelette.

"This is why, when you’ve managed to hold a volume of urine that, if you were plumbed for it, would allow you to write War and Peace in the snow, you have no dignity left as you run mad for the hills to your bathroom yelling “Get the hell out of my way. I need to pee like a racehorse!”

By the way, if you’ve ever seen a racehorse pee it’s enough to put any man to shame in half a dozen ways. But horses cannot give foot massages so men are safe."

Oh, and Dad, if you are reading this...sorry for the image. But you deserve it for all the times you've talked about "parent sex."

NL