Amazing, Simply Amazing!

Today, self feels like a real stick-in-the-mud, dear blog readers.  Dearest Mum arrived yesterday from Las Vegas.  Self called this morning, and Dearest Mum was all bubbly and said she had the most fantastic time in Las Vegas!  So self told DM she was glad that she had fun, and then all Dearest Mum had to say after that was, “Got to go!  Keep writing!”

Which had the strange effect of making self feel like not writing.

Even though self very virtuously did write, and only took a brief break (to kill eight snails), she did it not from any feeling of joy, but from a feeling of obligation, which —  (Self, that’s how books get written —  from writers feeling a sense of obligation.  If not to a publisher, then to themselves.  But, once again, self digresses)

After self was sick of being by herself, she decided to get something out of the way:  and that was to bring the li’l crits to the vet for an overdue check-up.  Self hates doing it because the vets at the San Carlos Pet Hospital keep changing.  Also because every time self goes there expecting to spend only a certain amount, she always always ends up spending at least double that, and today was no exception.  To forestall any unnecessary biopsies or what-not, self thought it would be best to be very up-front, and she informed the vet that she was unemployed and had to watch expenses (Self not above telling a self-serving lie — ha ha ha!).  And then the vet took one look at Gracie’s mouth and said, “Holy cow!” (No, she didn’t really say “Holy Cow,” but her eyes got very very big, and she drew back with an expression of pure disgust, and said:  “Her gums are pretty bad.  She’ll need root planing.  Costs about $500, on top of the anesthesia.”  Then she drew back and self watched her wash her hands about five times in the sink)

But what can you do?  You have to bring the dogs to the vet, or the Peninsula Pet Resort won’t board them.  And we need to board the dogs, because self and hubby are driving down to San Luis Obispo for son’s graduation, this Sunday.  And, oh, speaking of graduates, the phone rang this morning and guess who it was!  It was long-lost niece G, who self hadn’t heard from in weeks —  no, months!  But self figured she must be busy with pre-graduation rituals.

Niece told self she found a job in San Francisco!  And not only that, she has written poetry!  And some poems are about self and son! 

Which then makes self feel even more like a stick-in-the-mud, but after hanging up the phone self dutifully put her nose to the grindstone, and read/wrote/read/wrote/browsed-the-internet/checked-movie-listings (“Star Trek” down to only four screenings in local cine-plex:  that means it’s going to be gone by next week!  Aaach, aaach, aaach, nothing to watch until the new “Harry Potter,” and that’s not until Julyyyy!!!) read/wrote/made-notes-in-journal/blogged/browsed-internet/read/read/read . . .

At the end of the day, self had only three pages.  (But they were pretty damn fine pages, dear blog reader)

Stay tuned.

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