Have I mentioned the Synopsis From Hell?

Well.

The Alpha Sparkle Dog read pages from the current Work in Progress (which implies that it’s in progress, which is a crock according to my own work habits), and said, gently, that perhaps a synopsis would be useful.

At which point–and this was about a month ago–I froze in terror.

I can’t write a synopsis. But I have to. Irresistible Force, meet Immovable Object.

So I started writing one yesterday. I’ve got three paragraphs. Three more paragraphs than I’ve managed to achieve in the past month. Yay? Sorta?

Anyhoo, I think this book is good, and I’d like to finish writing it. But in order to finish, I think I need a synopsis. There’s that Force/Object conundrum again.

And now off to futz around doing Important Things for the Spouse. Great way to procrastinate.

Megan

PS: CindyS, the Armitage thing is when he’s on Season 7 of MI-5, which is available from Netflix at the end of this month. He plays a spy who’s been captive in Russia for eight years, hence the tats and general bad attitude. Rowr.

I have SO fallen down on the job. And, lest you think it is because life is full of AMAZING and EXCITING events, let me reassure you: It is not.

I’ve been slogging away at end-of-year stuff, taking a wee break post-middle school apps, and looking forward to not cooking. Oh, and gifts, too. But not cooking is a really big gift; not that I hate cooking, I don’t, but I don’t like having to think of something different every day. And my MIL makes food I just don’t, like big cuts of meat and mashed potatoes and stuff.

So I’ll be sporadic through the rest of the year, but back to the usual sched in 2010. Hopefully next year will bring some joy, as well as some more sleep. And coffee. For me, not an oxymoron.

More later!

It’s not like I don’t love my son, or love spending time with him, but this last week of school? Gah. It feels as though school has scheduled all these events just to preview Just How Much Time We’ll Be Spending Together This Summer.

Tomorrow, a school-wide 4th grade picnic. I gotta go to that for at least an hour or two.
Thursday, his class has a picnic. Ditto on the compulsory attendance.
And Friday? A half day. He gets out at noon.

Waaaahhhhhhhhhh!

I am so tired today. I have no idea why; I think I got enough sleep over the weekend, didn’t do anything ridiculous (read: drink too much, stay up too late), didn’t get in Big Fights With Spouse or anything.

I am trying to edit/completely re-write, and my characters are being just as dull as me.

So, yeah. Tired. Yawning and everything. Feh.

The Framptons are doing some money-juggling lately, as in we are owed some and owe more than we’ve been paid. It’ll all come right in the end, but meanwhile, I haven’t wanted to spend the money on getting my hair cut. The consequences of which, unfortunately, is that my hair resembles that of Partridge Family scion, Keith:

Really. It’s my everlasting shame.

Earlier today, the site was not up, dunno what happened, except that earlier today I had both vim and vigor to do a post, while now? Now I am a big brain full of grumpy nerve endings.

Plus my pictures are on the other computer, and I was going for the big reveal today, the grandmother’s evening gown, but now I can’t, ’cause I’m on the laptop.

Feh.

And I am trying to write, but because my head hurts, I keep wanting to bludgeon my characters with a streetlamp or something. Not so  romantic.

AND (because I cannot leave well enough alone), I have heard enough spoilers for Breaking Dawn to not wish to read it, at least not for awhile.

AND and I mopped the ENTIRE downstairs and then my son decided he wanted to eat crackers. You do the math.

So, yeah, feh.

Still having a good  time at National, although I am experiencing “ebb” time (as in “ebb and flow”) right now, but I just have to fight through it and not let it overwhelm me.

I am getting my tattoo later on today, wondering if it’s the Stupidest Idea Ever, but then remembering that the time I wore gaucho pants was probably the S.I.E. This might be a close second, however.

So I’m a smart person, I know that, and I should be able to handle everyday life. Right? Right. Okay. So I have to register my dad’s car in NYC, and I’ve printed out a rainforest’s worth of paper from the DMV site, and I still don’t understand just what I have to do, and I just know I’m going to be in a long line and some bored, totally over it desk person is going to tell me I didn’t bring the right stuff. It’s giving me agita even now, thinking about it.

But the car’s registration–shhh!–is expired in Massachusetts, and I want to get NY tags for it, so we’re all done and proper. It’s the car my dad won, so even if it weren’t, like, A CAR! I would have to keep it.

The car still smells like Dad, his truck (which my uncle has) even moreso, I bet. And all his clocks were set 11 minutes fast, so I am keeping the car’s clock set to that time.

The only comfort I can take from all this anxiety is that Dad was even worse about paperwork and bureaucracy and the like. Have I ever mentioned my parents had some serious issues with filing taxes? Yeah. Like that. So I take after him in more ways than the crinkly, almond-shaped eyes, flat feet and love of words.

So the job foreman on our house reno, currently my favorite guy in the whole world, told me he hopes to be finished by the end of next week.

Which means . . . moving in.

Yikes. You mean–I gotta pack all this stuff up into manageable sizes and move it into a new house (new to me, at least), where I then have to unpack it?

Hoo boy. Bring on the wine. And the whine.

Any tips for packing, moving, keeping calm, etc.? All support is appreciated.

Will I have a massive headache until the day after I move? ‘Cause it’s showing no signs of relenting its grip on my brain.