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Shoveling sh**

I don't like today -- my stomach hurts from last night's Chinese food; my head hurts from the Care Bears' sick-sweet voices chattering in the background; my face hurts from frowning; and my ass hurts from sitting.

I woke up at 4:45 a.m. to the insurrection of Jerod's coat thrashing around the drier like a fistful of pennies.

He had most of Sunday afternoon to launder the garment, but it made more sense to him to get up early and disturb his wife who'd fallen asleep on the couch a mere 15 feet from the laundry room.

He might have had the whole of Sunday afternoon to wash and dry his coat, but he neglected to shake the sand off his work clothes before he washed them on Saturday. So I found a thick coating of grit and mud inside the washer and all over the clothes I laundered first thing Sunday morning.

Maybe that's why he waited until 4:45 a.m. to throw his heavy Carhartt coat in drier, because he didn't cause me enough grief with the laundry the day before.

That's the kind of Monday it's been.

I spent a good three hours fighting with a character from the 50,000-word story I'm attempting to write. It's fiction. The characters exist only in my mind and still I fought with one of them for a disturbing amount of time today. He's a villain, and I've struggled with his story line -- making him evil but compelling -- and I finally hit on something brilliant, but this fabulous, evil thing made me so angry with him that I stomped around pouting for most of the day.


Go On When You Don’t Feel Like It
"Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it, and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing to do is shovel shit from a sitting position."


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