What I'm complaining about this morning

I’m not a person that sleeps well. I can get up anywhere between midnight and 3:00 am and I can usually turn on the TV and take mini-naps until about 5:00 or so. It’s just what it is, I’m sure I drink too much caffeine and have poor sleeping habits and most nights, I’m solving all of the world’s problems like do we have enough Fresca in the refrigerator at work? It is apparently an incredibly refreshing beverage and the doctors just love it. So like I said, it is what it is and it’s not too upsetting. Especially because the Hallmark channel shows reruns of Murder She Wrote, Hart to Hart, and Matlock all night long. I’m not crazy about Hart to Hart, but Jessica Fletcher and Benjamin Matlock are sort of like my adopted grandparents and I find their voices incredibly soothing and easy to fall asleep to. Unfortunately, in July, the Hallmark channel decides it’s time to start celebrating Christmas (it was over 100 degrees yesterday for goodness sakes!) and they show absurd Christmas movies overnight instead. And not like good movies either, they are these made for TV “romantic” Christmas movies. And let me tell you, there is not much on overnight. I can watch the Kardashians or MSNBC (if I really want to be depressed) or the Crepe Erase informercial or Dateline, but none of these are as soothing and I find I don’t get any more sleep. And I know I could read or something, but when you’ve got something that works and then it gets replaced with sappy Christmas BS, it’s a little disappointing. That’s all I’m saying.

There is a smell in our kitchen. It’s a cross between B.O. and rotting flesh. It’s very faint and I can’t seem to locate it at all times. It’s not the trash or fridge or garbage disposal. I can’t find it anywhere. And while there are advantages to having a husband who has lost his sense of smell because of chemotherapy (you don’t have to blame farts on the dog), one disadvantage is that he can’t smell this foul odor and so it is up to me to discover what on earth has died in our walls or whatever.

One problem with Bill breaking his elbow is that mama doesn’t get her massage every few days and that makes mama a little grouchy.

I’m on a diet and I’m hungry. And no need to politely say, “oh you don’t need to diet Emily, you look great.” My pants tell a different story and I am aware of the stress eating I’ve been doing the past few months. “Oh why yes we do need more candy for the office! I don’t know where it went!” Oh I know where it went. Very well. So I’m hungry and I want candy. A lot of candy. Best to avoid the hungry lady for a few days.

We got Gracie a set of “poochie bells” that we hung on the back door and when she needs to go tinkle, she rings the bells and we let her outside. What she has discovered, however, is that she just likes to ring the bells and when we get up to open the back door, she decides if she really wants to go outside. And sometimes she just wants a cookie. And since we conditioned her to get a cookie when she comes inside, she sometimes just goes outside so she can come inside and get a cookie. And we could stop giving her that cookie, but if you saw this face and how her eyes sort of just scream “I love you mom mom,” then you would give her the damn cookie too.

Grace keeps eating the rug pads. Not the actual rugs. She lifts up the rug and then chews holes in the rug pad and then puts the rug back over the rug pad. She is sort of a genius she is. She also likes to rearrange the rugs in different rooms of the house. 

I’m working on a longer writing project and it’s freaking me out. What if people don’t like it? What if I don’t finish it? What if I don’t get published and get on Oprah’s book list? What if I don’t have another story to write after this one? Will people call me a “one hit wonder?” Will I be an old lady that wrote “that book” once, but now I just have 37 cats?

Maybe I just get some Murder She Wrote and Matlock DVD’s and get some more sleep.