Grumpy Thursday

I caught myself obsessing over a title this morning. Still not quite halfway done, and I'm worried about that. Taking one step at a time does not come easily to me.

I didn't sleep well last night, for no known reason. After a trip to Sam's Club to replenish the bacon, sugar and flour supply, I was grumpy. Mr. Smarty Pants managed to break another pair of flip-flops and whine through the entire store, by virtue of his absolute unwillingness to stop walking on his tiptoes. Mr. Autism screamed for lollipops during the entire trip, even after they were in the cart. My beloved geek was grumpy because he's tired after working all day and didn't feel like going to Sam's Club. If we had gone on Saturday, there just would have been more witnesses to the misery that is shopping with my family. Why don't I go alone? I can't sling 25 lb bags of sugar and flour around because of my bad shoulder.

I am an old woman at 31, soon to be 32.

So after a restless night's sleeplessness, I am unsettled today and worrying about things I ought not be worrying about with The Beast*. I wrote a first draft of a query letter, even though I am a long way from needing one. Why? I wanted to do something, anything with the book, and I'm not in the right mental space to do anything more productive than that. It was kinda fun, actually. From what I was reading on various blogs online, I will need to revise it 2,000 times and will get 250+ rejections before any agents deign to read sample chapters.

There's a lot of bitter people out there.

I have higher hopes than that, perhaps foolishly.

It's time to walk away for a little while. Little Miss Sunshine visited today from down the street, also makes it harder to write but it's good for me (and hopefully for her- she's getting the alphabet down pat). It's staggeringly hot outside again, so I need to go water my plants. I'm tired, out-of-sorts, grumpyish, so it's a perfect time to catch up on sweeping, laundry and dishes before the buses start bringing the boys home.

Hope I can burn out the mood before tonight's open house at Mr. Smarty Pants' school. I'm already less than thrilled with his educational experiences there so far: bullies on the bus, boredom in the classroom. Being a former teacher, I don't want to be -that- parent that ruins the teacher's night. My mother-in-law is watching Mr. Autism, so at least I won't have to drag him along for the ride. He hates nothing more than a noisy, crowded event where he's expected to behave.

Yesterday's final word count was over 5,000. I should be satisfied with that. Tomorrow, I will shoot for the same.