Ever have those moments on a daily basis?
I'm feeling that way of late. I can't seem to get it together, which is very unlike me. Normally I'm queen of the checklist. Task, do it, check. Task, do it, check. I love an orderly life.
Now my head is I don't know where and it's a major accomplishment if I remember to rinse all the conditioner out of my hair. I can't seem to focus. I have a number of great ideas for books, for promotion, for classes, for new teaching exercises, but none of it is going to be realized if I don't get a grip and just get something done.
Not helping matters is I made an ass of myself yesterday. Not so out of the ordinary or a big deal, but this time I was an ass while on the phone with a pretty big-deal New York agent.
(Oooh...doesn't that sound sweet? Let's write that again, just for fun. I was on the phone yesterday with A NEW YORK AGENT. The only thing that could make that more fun is to be able to say MY New York Agent.)
We'd met at a speech she gave me writer's group back in November, had talked on the phone a few times, and I'd sent her a holiday card for which she was calling to thank me. All good until, for whatever reason, "fake woman" appeared.
Fake woman is apparently some as of yet unrealized part of my personality who feels the need to chortle (I swear to God, I heard myself chortling on the phone to this agent) and laugh wittily at every thing an agent says.
I could hear the little voice inside my head screaming, "Stop it! Shape up! Act human!" and then watched helplessly as I laughed and chortled like a jackass. What's up with that?
Maybe it's the Creature Under the Stairs that's affecting me. It's still there, alive and kicking. In fact, it was chirping happily earlier today as it gnawed on wood and probably some major electrical circuiting. I've got a critter control service coming out tomorrow and I'm going to urge nuking the furry little rodent.
I've had it. I've tried to be humane. I set out bait and release traps. I politely asked it through the walls to take its young and leave. No more Ms. Nice Guy now. It's time for Armageddon. I want the squeals and the chirping and the growling and the pitter-pattering and the gnawing stopped. I told the receptionist who made the appointment to tell the critter contractor to bring a drill and poison. Let's get it on.
I'll leave on a bright note. I've finally learned the rudiments of how to use my cell phone. I am no longer cursing while trying to figure out how if I have a message or not, and I actually received a call on it the other day.
Look out world. Here I come.
(Just as soon as I remember to rinse the conditioner out of my hair).