I feel. . .nekkid
In preparation for going over my galleys for A HUSBAND’S WATCH, I had to clean off my desk, which is actually one of those long white buffet tables they sell at Sam’s. The detritus included the old dictionary and falling-apart thesaurus, at least six spiral notebooks, two stacks of contest-bound books and the relevant paperwork, three royalty statements, a contract, a handful of catalogs, two bottles of nail polish, a “cheat sheet” of teenage slang I printed off AOL, revision notes for the WIP, various books that had nothing to do with anything, and enough writing implements to outfit a class of twenty-four.
I’m about to go blind from the glare of the morning sun bouncing off the white surface.
But weirder than that is this feeling that I’ve somehow swept away half my brain in the process. Where’s my nice, cozy clutter? Or, more to the point, where’s my life?
Have to tell on myself, though — last week I lugged the laptop to jury duty (waste of time, I was there for an hour, followed by a half hour two days later, and now it’s over), only to open it and realize to my horror that everything I’ve eaten by my computer for the past two years was in plain evidence. As opposed to any letters on the keyboard, which wore off probably three months after I got the thing.
If you want a good laugh, and aren’t bothered by off-color humor, head on over to Shannon Stacey’s blog , and her monthly commentary on the search phrases that show up on her stats page.
I guarantee you’ll never look at a Swiffer the same way again.
