Up from bed to blog and do chores. The girls were tucked into the big bed later than usual, D is at his friend's house until the wee hours, and tomorrow I work 6-2 (hard to say "no" to that holiday pay). My mother-in-law is coming for a visit tomorrow, so I guess I should at least do the dishes. Maybe just that, though - for all I feel compelled to do more, based on a series of less-than-charitable comments she's made in the past about the state of our house.
I often think bitterly that she may have run a pristine house and prepared fine, multi-course meals for dinner every night, but she did not work outside of the home, and her children never were allowed to be carefree, messy children - even once, from what I can tell. There's more, but that would be more of me being less-than-charitable, myself.
I still haven't sold the Escape, but I'm trying to be patient and hold out for whatever I can make selling to a private party rather than losing more selling it back to a dealership.
I did have an offer from someone in Las Vegas to take over my payments (which I'm sure would have continued from "I'd like to help take over your payments" to something like, "Please tell me your bank account number, debit card number and PIN, and I can help. And by the way, my uncle in Nigeria needs the account information, too.") And someone named Guido (I am not kidding) with an Italian hotmail account also is interested in the car, and would I please email him to make a date. Sorry, Guido. You'll need to give me more than a form email for me to believe you are a valid customer.
The good news: meeting the writer's group today, writing a little, and walking away knowing I'll write more. I have a self-imposed deadline of Tuesday to send out new poems to *somewhere* for publication.
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