Good news bad news.

Good news bad news.
The good news is that I get the day off work tomorrow.
The bad news is that I will be spending it in a dental chair with sharp, steel instruments inside my mouth and getting blood over my face while I get treated to a very soothing spa treatment called dental exctractions-- namely four pesky wisdom teeth.
Almost makes work sound desirable. Almost.
I'm a little nervous about tomorrow, but I figure... it can't be as bad as childbirth?? At least they'll just put me to sleep rather than waiting for a shoddy epidural to take hold, which incidentally-- I'm still waiting for.

So that puts things in perspective.
Anyways. I heard back from the agent. I was nervous to hear anything, and I thought, realistically- it could me weeks before she replies. But then the next day, I opened up my email and already, there it was. I was scared to open it. I envisioned the worst: Randine, I've looked briefly at your manuscript, but couldn't get into it, and frankly, found it fairly painful to read. The grammar was deplorable and the plot was shaky at the best of times. But best of luck in future endeavors." Hopefully, if she does let me down, it will be more gently than that, and no matter what the result, I can take it, but still...the point is that I was seriously hoping for something other than that.
So it was with great relief that I read her reply, which said, essentially, no she hadn't looked at it yet, would try to get to it soon but the work of existing clients take priority. I felt better reading that, because without fully consciously acknowledging it, I thought that maybe she had already dismissed the whole thing as fluff or drivel or insert your own derogatory term. So I can still be hopeful. Not overly hopeful, mind you. In this day of Ipods and DVDs and PSPs, books are a hard sell in any event. And when you've never had your name in published print (except for the Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology- which, lets be honest-- how many people read that??) and in fact, have never even taken so much as a creative writing class, you have to really consider the fact that it is a long shot. But even still, the whole exchange was very encouraging to me because A)she got back to me in less than twelve hours B)She did her typing in blue writing, which definitely makes me think that she's a nice, fun loving and up beat person, very creative and C)Two of the three sentences ended in exclamation points, which demonstrates her eagerness and enthusiasm. I felt a certain mojo, like I could really hit it off with her if I ever met her. Of course, that's a lot to read into a three sentence email, but I think it stands to reason.

So yesterday Geoff left for work at seven am. The household was already in full swing with a teething baby clinging stubbornly to my legs, a five year old drama queen trailing after me demanding juice in the PINK juice cup, which is absolutely nowhere to be found, the only cup I can find happens to be yellow but otherwise is exactly the same, a fact which I keep on repeating to her with increasing desperation, but still... try telling her that. It's like trying to tell a premenstrual woman that there is no chocolate available. Loud shreiking, objects being thrown at my head and horns growing out of her head. And not only that, but of course- as usual, the laundry was in a big heap, dishes were spilling out of the sink and onto the counter, the dog had overturned the garbage and the baby had overturned the dog dish. Honestly, I felt like grabbing onto Geoffs ankles and latching on to him, screaming "Take me with you if you have to go!"
Sometimes I feel like phoning him at work and just shrieking into his ear"They hate me!!", meaning the kids, because sometimes I think that they do. And sometimes, sometimes, if I'm really honest with myself and all of you, I think that that feeling is mutual.
What a terrible thing to say, I know.
And of course I don't hate them. I definitely don't hate them. I love them. To peices. But the problem is that I just don't always enjoy them. It just gets so overwhelming sometimes. And Payton is going through a phase of spelling. She'll ask me 'how do you spell Happy Birthday Alex" so then I tell her "H-A-P-P-Y" and spell it out really slowly. And then she'll be like "How do you make an "H?" And I just think "Oh god help me. I could be doing this all day." It gets pretty tiring pretty fast. I mean, why couldn't my kids just be illiterate?? I mean, you could get by quite nicely with very minimal reading skills, or so I'm told. Why do I have to have the kids are so into words??
Anyways. Later on that afternoon I started to watch a show on TLC on hoarders. And then I started to look around my living room. DVDs we never watch. Every McDonald's toy we've gotten since 2004 (and believe me you, thats quite a few). Clutter, candles, toys, books. I started to think, soon they may have to put me on this show. So then I decided a field trip was in order so I packed up the kids and took them to WalMart to buy some organizational tools to clean up all the toys off the floor.
Well that was a bust.
As it turns out, kids don't really like to look at organizational tools, and in fact, become fairly impatient within only a few minutes and things began to break down into screaming and crying.
So it ended up that rather than buy some nice shelving units, I spent a hundred dollars buying more toys, which are now further adding to the clutter upstairs, and then taking them to McDonalds for supper, which netted me three new Happy Meal toys.
Honestly. Sometimes my life is just too much. After writing this post, I am actually looking forward to a day in bed tomorrow where I can ignore everyone and everything, even if it means some mild discomfort and a little blood and a little pulp oozing out.
I will let you know how I make out.
Good night. Thanks for reading.