A couple of months ago, I agreed to write a chapter for a 911 dispatcher anthology with a deadline at the end of February. That was December. A prudent writer would have started at that time. And then there’s me.
Now, I have two weeks to hand in 5,000-7,000 words on my dispatch “journey.” That’s like, one-tenth of a novel.
Why are we EVEN TALKING right now?!
I have a motherfucking journey to write about.
But because I care, and because it’s National Feed-me-chocolate-in-bed Day, I give you my valentine, Jim, with Ramen.
Some wives would be feel bad that their husband had such a close, personal relationship with instant soup that he would pose like this, without irony, in front of a case of 24 bowls of shrimp-flavored Ramen. Some wives would be embarrassed that their husband burns through so many servings of sea-monkey noodles that he has to order a freaking crate on Amazon just to keep up with demand.
And then there’s me.
There’s no time to apologize.
Meal planning? Negative.
I’m over here with MY JOURNEY.
Anyway, below find another pink thing Jim likes to eat. (Snicker.)
This item is even more horrific than 24 cups of constipation. This item isn’t just for zombie apocalypses, but it probably should be.
So with Jim properly fed with strange, processed, salty pink foods, I guess I can at least write this thing without having to worry he’s going to starve to death.
He may very well suffer a sodium-induced seizure, but a photo of that would pretty much give me my blog for next week, when I will most certainly still be slaving over my STUPID GODDAMN JOURNEY.
Don’t stop believing.
Get started writing, Caroline.
And Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody.