God bless coffee,

and god bless YOU.
What?
You sneezed, didn't you?
NO?
Oh.
Well, I wonder what that was, then.

I have so much to say, that it might all come out garbled--
the body of one story bearing the limbs of another and the distinctive saunter of yet another.
But I'll take a deep breath and put on my thinking cap.
Or my walking shoes--?
Can never remember which one's more appropriate.

The most important item is that I finally reached a point of procrastination severe enough to warrant cleaning out 6 months of email from my inbox.
I forgot to count them all, but at last count they were nearing the 1000 mark, I believe.
That included almost half spam, though.
Anyway, I sorted them all out into their various folders,
so now I'm back to my old habit of keeping only unanswered emails in my inbox.
It feels as good as a new haircut, or a clean pair of underwear after 4 days of camping.

Next up, I finally called my doctor yesterday,
and his absolutely adorable receptionist guessed who I was as I listed my symptoms!!
I choose to only see the warm-fuzzy part of that, rather than focus on the fact that it makes me look like some damn hypochondriac.
Which I'm not.
They're just a fairly new office, and I've been in and out with my stupid thyroid a bunch of times,
as well as various immunizations for the kids, etc.
Anyway, he also employs the single best nurse I've ever met--
personality-wise.
She is my favorite.
AND she calls the phelbotomist a vampire, and it somehow sounds cute rather than trite.
Not to mention he got blood from my stubborn veins in only two tries, and didn't leave bruises.
Killer.
So, they're running a bunch of tests to see why I'm dying.
I can almost guarantee they're going to find nothing, which will prove to me that I am actually dying, so that sucks.
No, but my husband is fairly convinced there is something wrong.
I keep trying to tell him that THAT'S nothing new.
I just don't know why I'm so tired all the time.
It's probably my imagination.
I'm just getting old.
He did remind me to do monthly self breast exams, though, so that could be good fun.
Maybe I'll make that part of my Tuesday routine.
It's certainly a good reminder--
and yes, once a week is more than necessary, but I would become familiar with the girls at every stage of my cycle.
Yes, you can read that as "bicycle" if you're uncomfortable with girly talk.
Or if you prefer a slightly different type of "girly" talk: bi(sexual)cycle.
I'm merely the vessel, do with this knowledge what you will.

Ok, enough of the gloom and doom.

I submitted an essay, a short story, and two poems to my university's yearly literary magazine thingy.
(yes, english majors are allowed to use "thingy" as a real word. a lot.)
I can't wait to hear if they accept any of them.
The essay has the best chance, but who knows.
Someone also made a fantastic suggestion, which I better fucking follow up on before I begin kicking myself for not doing it: submit stories to free press papers, just to get some easy publishing credits.
If I nail the content, I have a very good shot of getting in because they are usually desperate for stories.
And that's not even the wisest of his ass's wisdom.
But I'll keep the rest to myself.
(read: I can't remember it)
Ha! Kidding, D.

Ok, so does anyone remember that super secret project I mentioned a while back?
Well, I'm still not giving you any details, but I will tell you a bit more about it.
A friend offered me the opportunity to do a smallish project with universe-sized possibilities for a man you would all know who is smart, and influential, and has great taste in writing.
I'm sure of that last one, because yesterday I got word that her coaching paid off, and he loved my samples!!!
If we can work out some logistical stuff, I have the gig.
It's such an exciting opportunity, not to mention a wonderful project to be involved with.
There was definite squealing, and much bouncing on my bed as I told my husband.
Just me, though, cuz he was not only sick but extremely tired.

And I now have less than 24 hours until my first paper is due for my English class,
and I better fucking get boogeying.

I'm pretty sure I had other stuff to ramble about, but it'll have to wait.
(either that, or disappear in the misty reaches of my faltering mind...)

Happy Hump Day--
Black Eyed Peas style!