Flubbing Out

I kid you not, Mondays always kick the stuffing out of me. It’s only 3 in the afternoon and I already feel like a deflated tire. Sure, I can keep rolling about on my rims but eventually I’m going to just start flubbing out all over the place and someone’s going to have to carry the whole mess to the nearest tire store, complaining all the way about the unreliability of Erika tires.

There’s something about that awful transition from weekends (where the mornings start at 10AM-ish, the bed times are flexible, and the work consists of goofing off) to Mondays (where the mornings start at 6AM, the bed times are 10PM sharp or I will cut you, and the work consists of, well, exactly what I’m doing now) that exhausts me utterly.

The good thing is that I had a splendid weekend so I feel like I have a lot of good experiences to bolster me through this rocky day. Wes and I had the opportunity to hang out with our nieces on Saturday and we all had a blast together. They have the most awesome doctor toys and I think I was rescucitated no less than four times, had no less than five puppet-babies via C-section, broke my hand and had it repaired through my neck, and caught and subsequently recovered from the flu. It was a busy night. I also may have inadvertantly taught my niece what an enema is (she asked and would not be distracted until she knew the truth. In the interest of full disclosure, her aunt may have proclaimed that the toy hypodermic needle looked more like an enema than a needle, thus prompting the whole discussion, but let’s not go there), but I think I made up for it by teaching her how to tie a bow.

We also watched The Other Boleyn Girl (which I thoroughly enjoyed and Wes felt pretty meh about) and The Crow (which we’ve both always loved. If you talk to either of us in the near future, expect to hear “What in the crap?!” quite a bit until we forget about it again.)

In conclusion, perhaps the most exciting thing about this weekend is that the germ for a book has been planted in my mind and I’ve started fleshing out the story more and more. Wes has been encouraging me to write a book for some time but I’ve never felt as though I had a story to tell. Generally, unless you are very good or very popular, most people frown on authors who write books that have no discernable point.

At this point, I can’t conceive of writing it seeing as how I’m running three different blogs at the moment. Who knows, though? If I can make the story vibrant enough in my mind, I bet it’ll come out whether I want it to or not. If that happens, I may just have to stop sleeping entirely. When Wes find me curled into the fetal position at 4AM muttering and typing on the puppy’s head, he may regret his decision to encourage me to write a book.

7 thoughts on “Flubbing Out

  1. That’s a lie. There’s an entire market out there for books that don’t have any point. It’s called literary fiction. Basically, books where form over substance rules the day and the writing is much more important than what is being written about.

  2. -Dane, As I said, you probably have to be very good or very popular to be able to get that kind of stuff published. I’m betting that if I just cobbled together a bunch of nonsense from the most cobwebbed corners of my brain, I’d be laughed out of every publishing house I set foot in. I know you’d buy my book, though :)

  3. I would read your book if it had no point. By the way I am back from the races. We went fast!

  4. If anyone has a story worth telling and telling well, it would be you Erika. May I please have the first autographed copy?

  5. -Del, Thank you and welcome back! Did you break your land speed record?

    -Cindy, Thank you so much! Of course you can have the first autographed copy! Even if it never goes anywhere I’ll sign the big stack of paper for you :)

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