No Time For A Sexy Title

On the heels of yesterday's blog about wanting a life, mine is getting away from me. 

Yesterday I 'came home from work' at 8:30 pm because the three times I walked through the door prior to that, I turned around and walked right out again.  Golf lessons, picking up children from thither and yon, evening walk/run...  By the time I sat down, it was on the pilates mat.  Yawn!

Meanwhile, I've started getting up before six a.m. so I can write before work.  You'd be amazed how little gets done in that amount of time that early in the morning.  And this after I said I wouldn't give up sleep to pursue publishing.

I'm such a liar.  One teensy, encouraging email from an editor and I'm up at the crack of dawn, grinding away at my quality of life in hopes of manifesting enough genius to impress her.  Frankly, I fear I'm not up to the challenge.  I'm tired!

Which is the long way of coming around to saying, I know I owe you a blog on PMS.  I'm actually really excited to dig into that properly because what I got from my friend is actually chapter one of her dissertation on the subject.  Which means I can either do her and the subject great justice or screw it up entirely.  I'm going to aim for the former by not taking action when I'm pooped and distracted.  So you're waiting on that one.  Sorry.

I also want to write about those pesky, selfish teenagers.  It's on the Things To Do list along with filing (2009 is over, time to put it to bed.)  Related to that is taxes.  They're out with a guy and have been for a while.  That needs following up in the next nine days.

I'm still in golf lessons, still have kids with one foot out the door and I just got an email from my mobile provider saying I can have visual voicemail for free on my iPhone, I just have to upgrade my version of iTunes, reset some kind of setting, sync my phone and do seventeen cartwheels. 

This would be more convenient if I didn't have to take up a whip and a chair whenever I want computer time on the Dell.  Did I mention the pesky, selfish teenagers?  Oh, I covet my sister's MacBook Pro.  I want my own computer and I want it on my lap while I do twelve other things.

Aside in hushed tone: I checked the secret website that either tells you Don't Buy or Buy Now.  Guess what it says.  Buy Now!  Apparently Steve Jobs doesn't consult his astrologer before he issues updates.  Having said that, revisions to existing works are usually a safe bet.  I'm still waiting until middle of May, though.  Really wish I had time to figure out how to add those cute little count down widgets to this blog.

A minor miracle just occurred.  Hubby came in with questions from the tax guy who called today.  Taxes are under control.  This inspires me to further delegate and ask hubby to blog for me so I can get caught up on other things.  Come on, darling, I'll give you a cool nickname.  Dogger...?

Time to go muscle daughter out of the way and post this for tomorrow.  Then pilates and early to bed.  Craig tweeted that the show is nothing but snafus which is like reverse psychology and makes me want to stay up to watch it.  Evil genius.  Need my beauty sleep, however.

Cheers and send questions