counting...

2769... 3078... 3522... 3559... 3852... 3905...

That's the slow crawl of the word count over the weekend. Today is the supposed deadline. I'm thinking I'll just let it slide for a day or so and then apologize after the fact for "taking a couple of days to get the final document put together". It kinda sucks that I'm going to miss the deadline, though. It makes me pretty fucking mad at myself.

There is still a miniscule chance of putting 2000-some odd words on paper today, so I'm gonna keep writing. I'm tired, though.

Life outside the dreaded textbook project continues. The wife has been painting the basement like crazy for days... only emerging occasionally to eat and sleep... covered in paint, I might add. I've never seen someone paint with such disregard for where the paint winds up. Jackson Pollack, perhaps. The high point was when she bent over and dropped her entire iPod Nano into a bucket of purple paint. I caught her just before she started running the thing under the faucet. (That will only get it WETTER, honey.) After 10 minutes of wiping down the outside, 20 minutes of probing the dock connector to get the paint out of the INSIDE, and 24 hours to dry out completely... it seems to work fine.

All this painting has left me on kid duty, so I spent much of the weekend dealing with scraped elbows, snotty noses, and temper tantrums. O! The tantrums! I know he has a cold, but that's really no excuse for The Boy being such a little asshole lately. I am seriously OUT of parenting ideas other than "Smack the crap out of him".

Did I mention how tired I was? I really need to write, but... fuck... I also really need to close my eyes for a while.