“I am writing a novel.” It’s like a new mantra, holding hands and skipping gleefully through my head along with “I’ve always been a writer,” harmonious and happy at last.
Sometimes, I think about our future. He says he’d love to name a dog Fenway; I realize we’d have to have a second dog so I could name it Bronx.
However, I have just showered and realized that my bangs are SO short, that after rinsing all my hair back and stepping out of the shower, the bangs stick straight up. I now decide that I look like Alfalfa from The Little Rascals.
This life changing, dessert-filled bliss would never have happened if it weren’t for the vicious Cruella. Sitting on the receiving end of screams did, in this case, allow our main character to do magic.
But if your colleagues want to meet for a drink after work, or get dinner, or go to Drag Queen Bingo, just do it. You’ll be happy you went, and you can always catch up on sleep during the next morning’s commute.
I have fond memories of stomping in squishy rain boots through the gale that was Hurricane Irene singing “Come on IRENE,” which was mind-blowingly original, if I do say so myself.