So

A guy walks into a bar...

Or actually, a hotel lobby where we sell beer and wine, though he is clearly not in need of either. The only thing he needs is a shower, a breath mint and a good night's sleep. But instead of any of those things, he decides to stand up at the front desk and tell me his idea for a movie.

Fantastic.

It's an hour until the end of my shift and I was stupid enough to tell the man that I have a degree in writing. When will I learn to lie to the people who ask me questions about myself? What's that? You want to know my story? I actually dropped out of high school, have four children and am working fifty hour weeks to pay for my raging addiction to nasal spray.

But no. Instead I stand, smiling until it hurts, and listen to drunk men talk (to themselves mostly), nodding appropriately.

Tonight's gentleman points out his wedding ring no less than ten times and assures me constantly that he has never strayed.

Really? High five, man. You want a sticker? I might have one with our logo on it.

Anyway, he goes on to tell me, in riveting detail, the opening scenes for his movie idea. Which is basically Lost in Translation, only set in New Orleans. And, since he's drunk and my time is just about up, I'm honest with him when I tell him that, Yes, it has been done before.

It's not always like this. There are some guests who come in (and who are generally sober) that I genuinely look forward to chatting with. One such guest came down to the desk twice last night, but was too polite to stick around after he checked on his next reservation, not wanting to interrupt my conversation with sketchfest-here's-my-movie-idea-man.

But enough about work.

Home life has been good. In an attempt to trim my daughter's bangs from dangling over her whole face, I've officially given her a mullet (in case the God given one that she had was not bad enough.) It wouldn't be so bad, if we didn't already live in a part of Southern NH where mullet's are considered a part of local culture. (On a good day in the summer you might even spy a rat-tail.)

Writing-wise, things are going well. The piece that I was asked to rewrite a few weeks ago was accepted. So, that's three pieces coming out in the next few months. Not a bad start to the new year. I'll let you know when things are out (some will even be available online...)

Editing-wise, things are slow. I'm behind on my biggest project, partly due to the cold that tore through my house, but also because I was thrown a couple of curve balls (ok, the same person who requested that I write a letter on plagiarism for her about a year ago, asked me if I could basically whip up an entire thesis for her...due this week. Obviously, this was a no go. But she is family, so I'm trying to help as much as possible, without being responsible for any form of cheating.)

And now that I'm officially rambling - I'm going to stop. Will return with more concise thoughts later. Sooner than later.

The Overnight

Things to do while working the graveyard shift...

Nibble the dark chocolate from the outside of about a dozen miniature peppermint patties (discarding the insides)
Re-read the Lorrie Moore book you've brought with you (since you've already read every magazine and Popcorn Factory catalog already at the desk...)

Jog around the back offices. Do jumping-jacks, squats and a few elbows and toes.

Write, what you can (without the use of Word, it's difficult)

Read anything even remotely readable online (Did you know that a man sold his son's $90 video game for $9,000 in an online auction? Or that apparently Jennifer Love Hewitt is overweight? Or that Guiliani is pulling political Ad's out of NH to focus on Florida?) Really. Read anything. At the very least, it keeps your mind from wandering too far.

Work, of course, as needed - but also make grocery lists, do online Christmas shopping, and start games of Scrabulous with any friends who might be willing to play with you (even better if they live in another part of the world...where it's already daylight and completely normal to be awake.)

Daydream about how nice it will be to not be working while the rest of the world is sleeping. But not too much. Best not to get ahead of yourself.

And really, aside from the whole graveyard shiftiness of the whole scenario, how bad is it to get paid to do (virtually) nothing?

Impatient

See that look in her eye there? It's saying, "Get me outta here! I know I'm a mess and you're only trying to help, but really, look, over there, I should be over there. Seriously. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here."

I've decided to use the impending Nor'easter as an excuse to call off from work on Friday. Not my boring-I'm-overqualified-for-this-job hotel job, but my one day a week office job where they hardly have enough work to keep me busy for eight hours anyway, so I can't feel guilty for not driving the thirty miles to get there in the middle of a snowstorm.

And besides, on Friday my husband has business to do. At least one phone interview, perhaps two. Big things, potentially. Though, very unknown things. We're not even sure what this job he's interviewing for is...or even where the job is.

Did someone say Arkansas?

At this point, I'm so tired that I'm absolutely ready for whatever comes our way. Whatever it takes to get me back home to my children and my writing.

I am that girl in the highchair begging to be let down as quick as possible - messy or not.

One of Those

Ever have one of those days when you decide to take a quick break from the office to deposit a check, and then stop at the grocery store to grab a Powerbar for lunch, but then realize while standing at the checkout counter that your debit card isn't where it's supposed to be? And so you empty the contents of your purse (empty tubes of chaps stick, a cellophane wrapped package of smarties, the name badge and hideous scarf you wear for your other job, cracker crumbs, some now-defunct insurance cards and a handful of post-it notes, grocery store and receipts, etc) - then your pockets (two pennies and the newest ATM receipt) only to realize that your debit card is absolutely not on your person?

So, you tell the cashier that you'll be right back - only your card isn't sitting nicely on the leather passenger seat of your car. Nor is it visible in the ATM parking lot or in through the ATM vestibule's windows.

And so then you drive back to your office to call the bank to cancel the card, and then realize that you can go and pick up a temporary card at a local branch. So you leave work again, and trek to the nearest branch of your bank (located almost directly across the street from the grocery store you almost bought a Powerbar from.)

In a matter of minutes (ok, twenty, at least) you're back in your car, salivating for that stupid Powerbar (as it is now officially lunch time and you've eaten nothing since waking up this morning) - and then as you're just about to pull away from the parking lot, the nice man from the bank is flagging your car down like it's an emergency. And it is, sort of. You realize as you approach him that he's handing you something - your drivers license - which you had forgotten on his desk.

Ever have one of those days?

Yeah.

Me too.

Darn you debt!

I've once again been forced to sell my soul to "the man" and interviewed this morning for an evening job that will help to recoup the money lost from the dissolution of my last one. The hours will be longer, the money not nearly as good, and the work more, well, work-like. I am not pleased.

Although, there is a slim, very slim, possibility that I might be able to sneak in a few spare moments here and there to sit and write, and this is what will keep me enthusiastic about the position. I long for a quiet place to write.

Speaking of which - Zhoen has challenged me to pound out 50,000 words in 30 days, sort of my own Nanowrimo (dubbed: Melnowrimo)

I accept the challenge - not without my doubts that it can be accomplished, but happy to have a goal. I'll post word counts here periodically, if not daily.

And so...back to the book.