It’s Sunday night, I’m anxious about the bills, and I’m flipping the channels between “The Wedding Singer” and a “Nancy Grace” re-run. There’s no ironing a shirt for a meeting the next day. No packing of a Lean Cuisine for the office freezer. No checking the blackberry for the day’s schedule. In fact, I’m thinking, “Why shouldn’t I open that bottle of Shiraz?” I mean, If I’m hungover, who’ll even know? Kind of like, if a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?
Well, I’m going to lay off the cocktails tonight. Yes I’m laid-off, but I still have a busy day ahead. I’m frantically chasing freelance work. I’m looking to see if there is an open full-time job that makes any sense for me whatsoever. Girl’s gotta pay the bills, and my head is brainstorming at 100 miles an hour.
But right now, all I can think is: I wish Nancy Grace would quit saying “Tot Mom”. It’s annoying. So I think I’m going to turn it to “The Godfather” on AMC because I need to learn how to “go to the mattresses”.