Seriously, how can you *not* want one? Me and Stinkers would have so much fun!!! Don’t you think? So help me convince mom to wrap one up for under the Christmas tree (well, the imaginary Christmas tree. Thanks to Jack and Baby, Christmas trees have been outlawed inside the house…those darn cats take all the fun out of everything!)
I let mom sleep in today, even though it was the first snow of the season and I was dying to get outside and play catch with some snowballs. (Of course, when I finally did get outside, the “snow” was more like squirrel dandruff than snow…grrr!) I thought it best to let mom sleep in because it’s her birthday today, which the cats started celebrating at about 5 am. I’m not sure why the cats can’t figure out that we’re supposed to nap during the day and sleep at night. Their early morning prowling always makes me cranky.
Anyway, the celebrations started with Charlie hacking up a hairball for mom. He missed the bed, but just barely. I thought that was cause to celebrate. Mom just stumbled around in the dark, grumbling. Next in line was Baby, who ate her breakfast too fast and spit it all back up. Days like today is why mom buys paper towels in bulk. Jack saved his gift for last: a freshly caught mousie. Not sure where the mousie came from because me and the cats haven’t seen so much as a whisker inside the house for the last few weeks, but somehow Jack found one and brought it to mom…in bed.
Well, he tried to. I know mom does *not* want mousies in our bed. She has been very clear on that point. So when I saw what Jack was about to do, I growled—softly at first, because I knew mom had just finally fallen asleep again, but I had to get louder and louder because Jack can be a stubborn old tom. Jack finally got the hint. Unfortunately, mom was awake by then.
When she let me out, I raced around, hopeful I could find the perfect gift for mom. I tried to scoop up some snow and bring her a snowball, because she laughs when she throws them for me. I figured she must like them, right? So I was surprised when she made me drop the snow before coming inside. Granted, it was more dirt than snow, but I had to work with what I had. So then I tried bringing her my favorite toy, but she kept throwing it and making me go run after it—yes, that was fun and I might have gotten a little side-tracked from my goal, but not the point!
Now me and my dirty wet paws are all curled up on mom’s pillow, keeping it warm for her for when she decides to come snuggle with me, but I’m still struggling to come up with the perfect gift. Any ideas?
Hair so knotted and clumped that I wake up to find the cats carrying out their daily preening routine on me. I drag myself out of bed, tripping on a box or the carpet or maybe just the air. Huh, tripping on air. I make a mental note to explore that idea more. I glance at the clock on the stove, trying to figure out how I will get everything done today. The revised schedule seems doable. I smile. Oh crap, I forgot to set the clock back yesterday. So I’ve got an extra hour, which means I can fit in two more “why aren’t these done yet?!!” tasks. Now I’m stressed because my schedule feels too full, too overwhelming. I let the dog out. I let the dog in. He drinks a gallon of water while I brush my teeth. When was the last time I brushed my teeth? I let the dog out again. Water runs right through him. I wish I could figure out his trick. Mine always waits until 3:26 a.m. to leave my bladder. I glance at the note I scribbled during last night’s release. An idea for a story: “wind,” “electrocution,” and some word that might be “hairball.” Or “tomato.” “Appendicitis”? I let the dog in. He noses his food dish, then looks up with puppy dog eyes. How on earth did they ever figure out that trigger for humans? Triggers for humans. Is there an idea there? When was the last time I fed the dog? I turn on the computer and wait for it to boot up. I reconfigure my schedule for the day three times before my browser loads. I log on to email and delete all the new messages since last night. No one important is emailing me now. Not this month. I log on to Facebook, telling myself I’ll stay just long enough to make sure that the world hasn’t ended in a fiery heap of ebola-spewing asteroid. An hour later, the UPS driver rings the doorbell, interrupting my search for a woman I met nine years ago at a conference in Tucson. We talked while waiting in line for the bathroom. She said something funny. What was it? The UPS driver plays his version of Ding Dong Ditch, dropping yet another case of liquid energy on the front porch before racing back to his truck. Which is probably smart seeing how I go out to get said case and forget that I’m not wearing pants. (Yeah, November in Nebraska? That’s a briskness to my nether regions that I really don’t need to ever experience again. Brrrr.) Back inside, I consider breaking my one-Monster-a-day rule. I’ve gotten a lot accomplished already this morning. I deserve it, right? I glance at the computer clock. Nearly 11 am. But that’s actually 10 am, so I have 12 hours yet to get everything done. No, the computers change automatically. Crap. So it is 11, which means I’ve been writing for three hours already. So I should have about 2500 words. Halfway there. I can do this. I don’t need another Monster. I am knocking this out of the park. I glance at my actual word total for the day. What? Three hundred forty-four words, which includes about one hundred words of outline notes I wrote back in October? I wonder if my computer has a virus. I run a virus check. All good. I search the internet for why my word count is so low. I read one post. It tells me to develop a subplot. I resist the urge to chase the rabbit down that hole. It’s suddenly quiet. Too quiet. The furries are all sleeping, spread out in two rooms. I should use this time to write. No interruptions. Just let the fingers fly. When was the last time I ate? No, no more distractions. I’ll chew on the ice from my soda. That will be plenty of sustenance. I’ve only got an hour before I have to go to work. Five thousand words in an hour. Piece of cake, right? First, lemme just fire off a tweet about what a stupid idea it was to agree to the 150k-word challenge for November (yes, 150k words — that’s what happens when you’re high on Halloween candy). Then I’ll get down to writing. And it will be glorious.
NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. During this annual event, writers around the world agree to write a novel (50,000 words) in November. Similar events are taking place for non-fiction writers, children’s books writers, and bloggers. If you know a writer and she is a bit frazzled this month or seems a bit odoriferous, consider sending her a support package. Leftover Halloween candy is always a safe bet.