by Wendy Corsi Staub
I know, I know, I owe you guys a blog today. I started writing it--a fun and scintillating entry that's completely relevant to the literary world--over the weekend. I meant to have it ready to post at midnight, as I usually do, but, um, see...the dog ate my blog.
Not buying it?
Me neither. I don't have a dog and even if I did, he'd have had to gobble an iMac, track pad and all, in order for that excuse to fly.
So what really happened to the blog?
Sh*t. That's what happened. Doesn't it always?
My husband went away on a business trip last week for what was supposed to be 5 days and turned into a full week.
The kids were dismissed from school at 10 a.m. the next day for the first snowstorm since Halloween.
My thirteen year-old son had 48 hours to learn to rollerskate--blindfolded--in the house--for his role in next week's school musical The Drowsy Chaperone.
The same kid dropped his laptop--NOT while rollerskating blindfolded, but "while watching Jon Stewart," as he earnestly explained to the inquiring Apple Genius Bar Genius--which entailed a 20-minute each-way trip to the Apple Genius bar on Saturday to drop it off, and another trip to pick it up--$280 of HIS FUTURE ALLOWANCE later--the next day.
My sixteen year-old--son #2--had 48 hours to learn to parallel park. Guess who got to teach him?
The Women were Telling All on The Bachelor.
We ate out every night at all the restaurants we like that my husband does not.
I had to hike an extra hour every day to work off all the extra restaurant food.
Back pain from all the extra hiking required prescription muscle relaxers that make blog-writing--and many other endeavors, such as talking and driving, but not sleeping--dicey business.
The fridge fizzled out and I had to empty it for a repairman, then sort through the contents and restock it--after writing a check for a $775 repair bill.
My thirteen year-old had to go to the orthodontist with a broken bracket.
My beloved Princess Kate was on the cover of People.
My agent kept calling to update me about a complicated, ongoing negotiation she's doing on my behalf.
My thirteen year-old's thirteen-year-old friend slept over. They tried to stay up all night. They did.
My sixteen year-old was out until well after midnight and needed to be picked up both Friday and Saturday night (usually my husband's department).
My special 14-day-loan library book--the tell-all by JFK Jr.'s secretary--is overdue.
I'm co-chair of the Cast Party committee for The Drowsy Chaperone. Cast Party: next Saturday. First meeting: yesterday. At my house.
Had to clean house.
The telemarketer I'd told three months ago to take me off her list...didn't.
The accountant needs all receipts for 2011 expenses sorted and itemized immediately for an 8 a.m. meeting this morning.
I'm delivering a keynote address at the PASIC conference today at 3 p.m. in Manhattan. No, it isn't written yet.
And Facebook...well, that's all I have to say about that. Facebook.
So, that's it. That's the sh*t that happened. And this is the fun and scintillating blog entry that resulted.
What? It's not either of those things?
Er...sorry. It's all I've got.
But my husband got back last night, and I have 2 whole weeks to work on my next blog. That...or get a dog with a huge appetite.