Someone else will clean the toilets.
Someone else will run clothes to the cleaners, take packages to the post office, sort out the problem with the bank, take the car to get the oil changed, pick up the medicine, kill the giant spider, skim the pine needles out of the pool and fix dinner.
Someone else will call the insurance company and plan the fish’s funeral. Someone else will make dentist appointments, stay on hold with the cable company for half an hour, and find Barbie’s other shoe. Someone else will pick up my skirts from the tailor, print contest entries, change the toner in the printer, finish printing contest entries, sort out the problems in that pesky paid job I have, and call the RWA office to see why my account still says my membership is due.
Someone else will do all of that because I will be busy writing a book.
(Okay, Rhonda, you can quit laughing at me any time now…)
Maybe the published life isn’t as glamorous as Jackie Collins would lead us to believe. From what I’m told, after I’m published, I’ll get to do all of that AND write books*.
It’s a nice dream, though. It rates right up there with the one where I swing gently in a hammock and read a book while handsome shirtless men in kilts fan me with palm fronds and bring me icy margaritas.
So now you know how my Monday went. Nope, I didn’t get a lot written.
But there’s always today, right?
After I take AC to the doctor and call the hotel about the luncheon and…
Tomorrow. I promise.
*Except for the part about the toilets. I’m serious about that. DG and I have a deal.