Time Of Your Life

LJ over at MooAlex needed some guest bloggers to step forward and fill her shoes. You can see my contribution, which is quite the masterpiss, here.

Busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest, LJ provided me with just the right amount of distraction to keep the wheels on my mental bus from having a blowout. I don't do stress well. Typically, I try my best to laugh off whatever demons try to slow me down.

Yesterday, I found a little humor. First I made a decision to set work hours. While I planned a schedule, I also penciled in some time to sleep. Ridiculous, I know. But since the communication with the agent, Lois Lane hasn't been sleeping more than four hours a night. And now Lois Lane is losing her mind and speaking of herself in the third person.

As I planned out a normal day, I had to take into consideration that the old man is out of town, with no estimated time of arrival. (ETA if'un you're in the shippin' business)

I had to also put the kids above all else. There's the morning ritual, "Pencil in at least two arguments, Lois, ohhh, and one case of the school time blues." After breakfast was broken, and I finished driving the kids to school, that would leave oodles of time to work.

I have some freelance things waiting in the wings, of course, working at home there is the thrill of cleaning, laundry, taking care of the animals and bills, don't forget to check and answer your e-mails and you know you HAVE to blog, maybe you can even squeeze in a couple friend blogs to read, and then there is that book thing, add a proposal, mix it with a pinch of Sybil and "Voila, you got a plan, Lois!" (It seems one of my personalities speaks French. Ooh la la.)

With six solid hours before I need to fetch the kids, I was pretty sure my plan was taking shape quite nicely. I thought maybe I should work on a schedule for the hours after they are home. Snacks and homework always come first, then of course, I have to beat them with sticks to get their chores done, add the in and out of their friends stopping by.

I'd have to make dinner at some point and of course clean up that mess, which I could do while they ate. With their bellies full and their friends to occupy their time, I could probably squeeze in an hour of work before they go to bed. Nonstop interruptions would probably be inserted in this time slot. Wait a minute, I didn't plan any time for me to eat. Well shit! I always hated those skinny bitches, you know the ones, "Hee, hee, hee, I was so busy, I forgot to eat." Yeah, well I ain't skinny, and I love my food. I need to go back and change something. Mental note to self: no bran anything, who has time to shit?

With the children all nestled and snug in their beds, I could research, write and organize the manuscript and proposal for ten whole hours before they needed to get up and ready for school. That's when the sleep thing dawned on me. "Hmmm, six more hours of work plus a little sleep, that should do it." That was the part where my imaginary mind friends told me four hours of sleep would eventually catch up with me and cause a major crash and burn. Not wanting to live up to the name, Home Fires, I thought, I need to rework this schedule.

Providing this nut doesn't officially crack, I'll be by your homes in Blogland sometime this weekend to get caught up. Don't forget to check out my masterpiss.