2. Surf the web for the prognosis for throat cancer, which you are sure you have because you (and the rest of the Dallas metroplex) seem to have 80% of the symptoms. It happens to be our second spring and flu season, but let's ignore that for a few days of histrionic self-diagnosis.
3. Wash all the laundry in the house, which comes out to eight loads, before "hubby" comes home from Toronto. I'm half done, and it's 10:15 on a Saturday morning. Not bad.
4. Get back to the manuscript that's been waiting patiently since last weekend. Spend ten minutes searching for the most recent version, then two hours revising the first two chapters for major changes in the main character (from mother to barren wife). This is, by far, the best way to wait for the UPS man to delivery your first baby. But we can't be 100% good all the time.
5. Read other people's blogs and feel woefully inadequate and what's-the-opposite-of-prolific. Spend ten minutes feeling bad for not blogging for more than a week.
6. Blog. 'Nuff said.
7. Take out the trash and recycling that's been stinking up the garage for the past week. Realize afterward that one can walk to the car without jumping over anything.
8. Write a query letter to a magazine who may or may not publish an excerpt from your forthcoming novel. Throw away a dollar in postage stamps (i.e., mail it).
9. Pour a cup of green tea with Agave syrup and walk outside to watch the construction guys in hard hats pour the foundation for a neighbor's house.
10. Remember that you have a real child who hasn't had breakfast yet and may be permanently rewiring his brain from too much GameCube Pac Man.
All this on one gorgeous Saturday morning in October. Not bad. Not bad. Now, on to those 40 essays that need fair grades and earnest, helpful comments. Maybe I'll mop the floors first.
