I’ve said this before, I’m sure. I imagine that there are people in this world for whom success and productivity are given like gifts to the heir of a great inheritance. For these people, each professional milestone is received with a slightly lifted nose, regarded with pursed lips, and placed on a shelf as a sort of existential knick knack.
And there are the rest of us. Who look up at the end of a long day—a day on which THE Chapter absolutely, positively must get there on time—and think “What the hell just happened to me?”
I mean, let’s see. I woke up. Being the supportive-type wife that I am, I agreed to get up at 5am to work while S.O. prepared for his depositions. Deleted some spam, surfed a few blogs. Started editing the chapter, looked up and it was time to get A out of bed, into the tub, and all of us out the door. As I’m hurriedly slicking my hair back into a ghetto ponytail and throwing on yesterday’s jeans which are also last Saturday’s jeans AND last Thursday’s jeans, S.O. turns, and says “You’re not taking a shower?”
After brief wonderment at his talent for stating the obvious and a passing thought that I have, by accident, married an alien, I try unsuccessfully to muster a civil reponse:
“Well, hmm. Let’s see. Given that you (S.O.) have not yet showered, or ironed your clothes, or shaved and given that A. is still in bed and given your desire to have all ofus in the car in 30 minutes—no, I think I will not be taking a shower. However, if it makes you feel any better, I will at some point later today, take the time to unfunk myself.”
To which he responds, “WooHoo! Thank God!” and slaps me on the ass.
And there, ladies and gentleman, is proof that reality really is far stranger than reality TV.
Which would, of course, explain the time warp that resulted in it being five o clock and me being only five pages into the revisions of my chapter.
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