To paraphrase Barbie, “This book writing shit is hard!”
Sorry, that was so Charlie Sheen of me to say “duh!”. By the way, when did “duh!” become cool again? Should we be expecting “Sit on it!” and “Dynomite!” to be the next lame 70’s putdown to return?
It’s late, and it’s already been a long weekend and it is barely half over. Mrs. 20 Prospect is having a much deserved, weekend away from the clingy, needy leeches she call her husband and children, so I am home alone with the kids, and the mutts. But don’t cry for me Argentina. I am actually enjoying the time alone with the kids. This afternoon we went to an indoor waterpark at a nearby suburban community center. Not our suburb. We don’t have such things in this piddly late 40’s inner ring suburb. I mean one of the nice wealthy ones. I’m not judging though, I am thankful for their taxpayer funded entertainment on another cold sunny Minnesota March weekend. Jeezus, if it doesn’t turn to spring soon I am going to have to start hiding the kitchen knives. It has been a freakin bitch of a winter around here.
So, what was I saying?
Oh yeah. That writing shit is hard. Hats off to anyone that can make a living at it. As for me, I have to say I am loving it. It has been very damn rewarding to write something longer than 500 words, that ostensibly has a purpose beyond baiting a bunch of bored fellow bloggers into commenting to pump up my self esteem.
Er… I mean, you know, sharing my brilliant insights with the world.
I know I’ve been phoning it in this past week as I have spent more time doing research and writing about 19th century Batavia than I ever dreamed possible. I promise that I will return to telling embarrassing stories of my youthful attempts to get girls to lick tonsils with me in due time. In the meanwhile, have patience. I promise I will not neglect you anymore dear reader.