I need to write. Obviously. Book is pretty much due. I have many more words to go.
Went out this a.m. with the folks and the girlie. Get home. Tell the girlie she can watch a 1/2 hour of TV.
Girlie: But mom, I watched everything I DVRed.
Me. Okay, so then watch a show on Netflix in the spare bedroom.
Girlie: But mom, every time I watch there, I have to input the WiFi code.
Me: So input it. No big deal.
Girlie: But mom . . . *whining*
Me: *totally fed up and feeling deadline biting at my heels* Fine. No TV. Solves the whole problem.
Girlie: shrieking and wailing . . . No! No! I didn’t mean it!
Me: go away. I’m writing now (repeated with some frequency as the previous continues). Girlie stomps upstairs in her room above my office where more wailing and weeping commences. I turn on the music to drown out said noise.
Sigh. I’m sure there’s a more appropriate way of handling this.