There's Nothing To Do.

I'm bored. I'm totally, pathetically bored right now. There's nothing to do. It's Friday night and Ajers and Tukey are in the basement playing GameCube. Diva is at a friends. Hubby got home from work early and he suggested some 'cuddling', but come on, I can't just be that quick to cuddle. It takes time.

Plus, it's not really officially the weekend.
Plus, I'm feeling fat and bloaty.
Plus, I haven't had any wine.
Plus, there are children in the house.

And I'm crabby. And whiny. And on the verge of being bitchy. I feel a fight coming on just to spruce things up around here.

I'm bored and crabby and all I am thinking about is a big, fat, large, yummy, extra-sauce cheese pizza. Oh, maybe add some garlic and spinach.

I think it's because I have been querying agents again. And getting practically nowhere. Some are biting, but no one has swallowed that damn hook yet so I can pull him out of the water, get rid of the hook, shake his hand and sign a freaking contract.

I have given myself a new goal. If, after my one-hundred-and-first rejection, there has not been the signing of an agent that I fall in love with and vice versa, then 40 Weeks goes into a drawer for however long it needs to sit there before I decide to do something else.

And then, I guess I'll just have to continue working on sucky manuscript No. 2.

I feel like a bratty kid right now waiting for someone to entertain me. To take me somewhere. To do something fun. I'd even settle for a family trip to Chuck E. Cheese right about now. Yes, it's annoying loud. Yes, Hubby refers to it as Kiddy Vegas. Yes, we don't have an extra hundred bucks to take the kids somewhere to toss money in flashing lighted machines.

But...

They do have pizza and beer.

Update to post: Okay, I had my pizza, even if it was Tony's frozen cheese. That made me happy. And then this made me smile and be happy too...

Tukey Talk
Sing-songy voice: "I have to tell you a secret!"

Me: "What?"

Tukey comes over to me, pulls me down to his lips, and whispers: "You are the best mom ever!"

I melt.

Then he goes on to say:
"And you're the best pancaker!" pause... "I mean waffle-er!"

Yep, I can whip up a mean cinnamon-chocolate-chip pancake, that's for dang sure.
So, happy non-manic-depressed mom is back for the time being.
Have a nice weekend, and fill it with lots of love, kisses, thank-you's, hugs, and happy conversations with those you love! That's what I plan to do!

xo