I tear so easily…

Building a story soundtrack at two-something in the morning because sleep is for the weak.

Every time I sit down to write here, my brain turns to mush, and I seem to get Vyvanse levels of incoherency happening up in this place.

That’s probably a sign I should just step away from the internet, but…nah.

There are days I think, I am thirty-six years old and wonder, how the hell am I that old and how the hell does anyone expect ME to be a responsible adult?

Then there are days when I get really excited about the prospect of a new kitchen faucet or new appliances or furniture made out of real wood instead of MDF—which all just kind of proves that I am, in fact, old.

We’re not getting new appliances any time soon (I’m in denial about the loud clunking the washing machine makes on the spin cycle.) (I also probably just jinxed us.) but we did get a new kitchen faucet. I’ve wanted a new faucet since we moved in—a nice, high goose neck number—but it hasn’t been a priority because the one we had was fine and faucets are bloody expensive. The lever had been feeling rather loose lately, so Sunday afternoon Bob decided to take it apart and see if he could tighten something to hold us off for awhile. Instead he found a broken piece of plastic that couldn’t be cobbled back into place. So for a day, we had to operate the faucet with a needle-nose pliers.

Classy.

We went shopping with a list of parts and tools and spent far too long staring at an aisle of endless faucet options before narrowing it down to two, and then picked based on the available inventory. Then we brought the heavy sucker home and installed it. Or rather, Bob installed it. I stood around and handed him things while singing Train songs and eating Bridge Mix—because why else do we shop at Menards if not for the Bridge Mix???

It took a solid hour to get the old faucet removed. Those nuts were not budging. Then I scrubbed the excess of hard water deposits off the sink (vinegar and Dawn dish soap FTW) and then we (still just Bob) installed the new faucet. Aside from the stubborn nuts on the old faucet, it was relatively painless. We got the whole thing done in about two hours. We’re not the handiest of homeowners so we were prepared for a struggle, but it worked out and nothing is leaking…yet.

And now I have a nice, high goose neck number with a pull-down sprayer.

It’s shiny.

(And we REALLY need to paint those flat, white walls.)

On the writing front…

I’ve managed to derail myself multiple times with the story project I’ve been trying to work on. Every time I think I have things figured out, that little gremlin that’s always poking me in the brain keeps whispering But what if THIS happened???

Last week I was driving home from an appointment, listening to TRAIN—like I do—and suddenly at a stoplight, that effing gremlin was all WAIT A MINUTE!

Because of course he was.

And things completely changed direction and now I’ve got an entirely different story on my hands with the same group of characters. Focusing on one project at a time just…ain’t gonna happen for this girl.

From the beginning of this whole fun fest, there has been something bugging me about this story for unknown reasons. (Regardless of which plotline I’m trying to follow.) There was something off about it, but I couldn’t figure out what it was until I realized I had two characters named Stephen and Tyler.

Stephen and Tyler.

And suddenly things got really awkward.

I tried to push past it, but it was bothering me way more than it probably should have. I knew I had to make some changes. I kept Tyler—that name fits—but I changed Stephen because I wasn’t entirely sold on the name for that character to begin with. I ended up changing a lot of names and now things seem to flow better for the time being.

I WAS supposed to be working on Ben & Marina but SOMEBODY keeps being all, “WAIT! WAIT! HOLD ON! We got THIS idea we need to address! And I’m not about to let you sleep until you write it down, girlfriend.

NOBODY ASKED YOU, BASIL.

Bulletproof Picasso
Train

Something to say?