Writer For Hire - $214.31

HIRE ME, HIRE ME, HIRE ME!

Hear ye, hear ye. In the 16 days left until the New Year, it is to be the mission of each and every one of you to find someone in need of a writer AND (this is the crucial part) is willing to pay for said writing services before the close of midnight on Sunday, December 31st.  That's right... while others are groovin' with Dick Clark watching the ball drop, I'm counting singles and twenties...

Here's the deal. Each year I set a financial goal for myself. I am--as of this writing--$214.31 short of reaching this year's goal. It's like at the end of Rocky III when Rocky and Apollo have a friendly matchup at Apollo's bidding and Apollo says,  "You beat me by one second. One second...that's very hard for a man of my intelligence to handle."  Same deal here. I'm sooooo close that it's killing me.

Admittedly, my accounting system is somewhat warped. I only count cash collected during the year. I actually have close to $1,000 owed me in article fees but the cash for that cool grand won't arrive until January--too late to meet this year's goal (but giving me a nice leg up on next year's goal).

I may have a quick $50 project at the start of next week which inches me even CLOSER to the goal. 

I know...I'm so close that it pretty much counts. Except it doesn't.

No one ever said life was easy for a Type A. (Now go find me work...) 

Holiday House Cleaning

Here's the debate: Clean the house now and relieve the heebie-jeebies I get every time I look under the dresser in our bedroom and see dust bunnies of killer rabbit proportions, or wait until we take the holiday decorations down and clean then, since the house will get trashed in the process anyway? (And anyone who dare suggest we do both need never log on to this blog again. Just how much free time do you think I have, anyway?)

Of course, this opens the lively debate of when the holiday decorations should come down. Me, I'm a December 26th gal. Christmas is over... why live in the past? Let's take down the lights, pull down the tree, pack up the cards and put this whole holly-jolly season behind us.  If I get my way, every trace of the holiday is removed from my home by 8 PM the day after Christmas. Ahhhh... total relaxation.

Blair, on the other hand, is a January 1st or 2nd guy. "It's nice to have a tree up for New Years," is his argument. Uh--no, it's not. It's just a tall, green reminder of all the clean-up and packing still to be done AND it robs me of the satisfaction of starting the New Year, from the first bong at midnight, with a spotless home. I will not be denied.

One of my friends shared that she leaves her tree up until January 6th...the 12th day of Christmas. Honestly, that never occurred to me. Makes sense though (which is why Blair must never, ever learn of it).

Then you have people like my sister-in-law and brother in-law who leave their tree up until...oh...let's say...April.

This topic is a big deal for people. When I share with certain people that I prefer to take my tree down the day after Christmas they look at me as though I'd just smacked an infant. If there were such as thing as party-pooper police, I believe they'd turn me in.

Thank God we don't have kids. Can you imagine? "Did you have a good Christmas darlings? You did? Wonderful. Now rush rush and put all your new toys away because if they're left out after December 26th Santa will haul ass back here and exchange each and every one for a lump of coal. Run along now and clean your rooms..." 

If memory serves, I believe I acquiesced to Blair last holiday season and we left the tree up until January. Which is why I'm pushing this year to take that sucker down. 

I know, I know...bah humbug...I'm such a Grinch.  Maybe someday my heart will grow three sizes in one day.

But I'm betting it will be on a day after the tree comes down. =)

Do You Answer Your Phone?

Our phone rang 5 times last night between 8:30 and 10.  Neither of us so much as twitched. "Why do people call us?" I asked Blair. "We hate talking on the phone."

I remember being young and dropping everything when the phone rang. These were in the days before Caller Id or even answering machines. If you missed the call, you missed out.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" came the cry from me, my sister and my parents as we thundered out of our rooms and down the hall, racing for the ringing phone. Injuries weren't unheard of in our race to the receiver. It also wasn't uncommon for the caller on the other hand to hear: "Hello?" followed by a second family member saying, "Hello?" and if they were really lucky, a third breathless, "Hello?" from a latecomer to the phone.

And God help you if you were in the bathroom or outside when the phone rang. Toilet paper was grabbed with a quick flush as you held your pants around your waist and waddled out to the phone. Or gardening shears were tossed in the air as you yelled at the phone, "Hold on! I'm coming!"

I think answering machines and Caller ID have desensitized us. While I appreciate Caller Id's ability to screen out 1-800 or 888 numbers, I find I really don't screen my calls. Instead I just ignore the phone, safe in my knowledge that the person can either leave a message or I can check the screen later to see who it was. Unlike childhood, there is no more excitement when the phone rings...we just turn the volume up on the TV until the person finishes leaving a message.

It's rude, I know. Plus counterproductive. Better to take the call when it comes in and be done with it. Now I have guilt hanging over my head that I have 3 phone calls to return today.

All I know is those people on the other end better pick up.

The Cats Take Over

This is Olivia, our youngest. Every morning when Blair sits at the computer, she climbs in his lap to be combed. Me, not so much. She demands I vacate the chair so she can curl up in its warmth and only then will she allow me to comb her.

Until this morning, that is. I did not feel like handing over control of the chair so I scooped her up and deposited her in my lap. That lasted for all of .000046 seconds, but instead of hopping down, she created a new home for herself on top of the sliding tray that holds our keyboard. No longer shall it be known as the keyboard tray. From this day forth, it is now the new and improved kitty grooming area.

Olivia was living it up--purring and rolling over and having a fine time (until Mommy ruined it by grabbing the camera). Still, my girl is a cute one. Gutsy too. Lucy has claimed a corner of our couch for the past 2 months and spends all her time there.  Lo and behold yesterday afternoon I came downstairs to find Olivia curled up in Lucy's spot on the sofa and one ticked-off black and white cat pacing the floor beneath her.

"You're on your own," I informed Olivia. "I can't help you here."

I don't know what transpired, but when I came downstairs again 30 minutes later, Lucy was on the sofa and Olivia nowhere to be found. 

Frankly, I'm happier not knowing.