I somehow caused a minor freak-out among you Coloradoans in an email about my Web site last night when I casually mentioned that I’d stopped sleeping in preparation for our move back to NY (you know, since Denver is such a shiny happy morning person town and NY is full of vampires who never sleep). Everyone – I mean everyone – in the mile-high called or emailed or in one case (*ahem* TRISH) showed up at my cube for a personal lashing.
Let me clarify that we’re not moving tomorrow or the day after that or even in 2007. We’re moving in, like, April. But still… 6 months will go fast (especially when you’re a hallucinating, sleep-deprived zombie). According to the secret little calendar I keep in my desk drawer to mark off the time left in the office, I’ve only got 110 BIC (butt in chair) days to go. You might wanna get in line to start showin’ the love soon.
Enough about morning people. For our New York friends and family, please sign up for your rotation in the Freeloader Support Network (FSN). By donating floor or bed space for just one week to a month (don’t let us limit your generosity!), you, too, can take part in this exciting, ground-breaking experiment whereby Alex and I will live rent-free for an entire year on a rotational, revolving basis until all of our once-cherished friends grow weary from our constant presence. In return for your gracious hospitality, we’ll write your name on a temporary honorary notebook-paper-plaque in permanent, licorice-scented magic marker for prominent, short-term display in each of our lovely host homes. As an added incentive, if you throw in food, we’ll draw hearts in cherry-scented marker around your name!!!
I really think I’m on to something here. Anyway, while you’re checking your calendars and your spouses’ tolerance level for uninvited, unemployed, unshowered (but loyal and loveable) guests, please join me in wishing all of this year’s participating NaNoWriMo authors (speaking of unshowered) the best of luck! I wish I could join in, but I’ve been working on book 2 and can’t get off track. Plus… America’s Next Top Model. Oh, don’t tell Alex I said that. It’s this dirty little secret between us. He knows the show makes me feel entirely inadequate as a person, which is why I love it, but whatever. Just because I put on glitter lip gloss and ask him about boob jobs and leg extensions while crying in front of the mirror during commercials does not mean I shouldn’t watch the most intellectually-stimulating show of our time.
Besides, there’s a Web site. Tap tap tap.
“What are you doing, Bims?” (that’s what he calls me)
“Uhm, working on those book two revisions…”
“Oh, okay. I’m glad you turned off that trashy show.”
He pretends he doesn’t know. He pretends he doesn’t want to watch the show himself. He’s very sweet that way.