At long last – it’s here. The moment you’ve been waiting for, with bated breath — the Mitt Romney Oven Mitt. The accessory you, and your kitchen, can’t live without this Election Season. A first, and quite possibly the last, arts-and-crafts project here on Sassy Radish.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Friday, August 3, 2012
Things they should tell you when you’re writing a book.
- You will spend three times as much time on it as you think you will. Plan accordingly.
- Life will happen as you fast-approach deadline and you have to juggle it.
- On Monday, you might this it’s Friday, and on Wednesday you might think it’s Monday. Days of the week will cease to have the same meaning they do for people with regular desk jobs.
- You will treat taking a shower as a major accomplishment. At times, you will skip it and not think twice on your decision. But when you do, you will pat yourself on the back if only inside your head.
- As for getting dressed, you might find yourself at 2 o’clock in the afternoon still in your pajamas. And you’ve been writing since 7 am. You might stay like this ‘til dinnertime and change into shorts and a tanktop before your husband comes home for dinner.
- Your idea of a nutritious meal will be peanut butter toast and coffee. Anything requiring chopping, stirring, kneading, and most importantly, clean up – are way too time consuming. Dishes with crumbs will pile up by your desk or on the coffee table.
- You will order more take-out than you care to admit to others. And it won’t be the cooking that you won’t have time for – but the clean up.
- You will develop that weird cramp in your shoulder which will switch sides on occasion, but will be mostly persistent in one pesky spot. Aleve and Advil will fail you. So will a chair massage in a local nail salon. You might even stop noticing it for awhile or accept it as the new phase your body has entered. Much like that one stray grey hair you found the other morning, but chose to pluck before it saw the light of day.
- You will ask for an extension. You will be granted an extension. You’ll feel terrible about because you’ve never, not once in your life, handed something in late.