We Interrupt this Broadcast of McMillan and Wife...

Oh, you're sitting there thinking I'm going to show you a great clip of your favorite 70's husband and wife crime drama! Poor you! You're going to be so disappointed when I just tell you something pointless and inane about my boring, sadsack life!

Here's the thing: I have neglected you poor gentle souls, all 14 of you, and I feel bad about that. I've been busy, and there's something else.

I have actually started writing stuff. Like not blog stuff. Like fiction stuff.

I haven't told anyone this yet, which is funny since it will be on the ole interwebz in about 5 minutes of me writing these words, and accessible to anyone who googles me and finds me on Facebook and thinks, "I wonder what that fat bitch from high school who always drank Fruitopia and talked about Dave Matthews Band a lot is up to these days." I, specifically, haven't told my husband and mother who both mention, oh, about every other time I talk to either of them, that I should write more. For different reasons. For my mom it is because she knows it makes me happy, and she wants to see me be happy because she's my mom. For Matt, it is because he wants me to write something great and sell it for an obscene amount of money so that we can move to a mountaintop home in Vermont where we will make our own maple syrup and place orders for luxury items off of Amazon.

And until this point, you thought Matt was smart, didn't you? But now you realize that his financial plans are based on this kind of dreaming, and you really regret thinking that, eh?

Because the point is, I'm not that great of a writer. I rarely have a decent idea. Like the last one I had was for a college creative writing class, and I wrote oh, about 40 pages and then kind of left it to finish itself which it hasn't done yet, the lazy thing. So, you know, we'll see if this lives past the 40 page expiration. Because if I were a betting person....

At any rate, though, I only have so much time during the day to dick away on the computer. The rest of the time, you know, I have to work. And drink Diet Coke. Which energizes me enough to make me a slightly more than mediocre employee. And those alphabetized J. Crew wishlists don't make themselves! So, if I don't write on here for a couple of days, you can imagine me typing away at my computer, wearing something loose and flowy and drinking coffee and making very, very funny references to the lesser works of Proust. Because I am totally not sitting here, cursing at myself for not being able to put the proper amount of space behind a comma, eating Three Musketeers bars (IT WAS ONE! SHUT UP!), and laughing at my own bad humor. DEFINITELY NOT.