And no, it wasn’t because of the toilet episode (which was fairly tame, actually–a quick plunge and all was well. Although it was awfully early, and I am pretty sure I was having the Bradley Whitford dream again when Henry woke me up).

I don’t exactly know how it happened, but yesterday I signed myself up for the National Novel Writing Month project. Yes, between midnight on November 1 and midnight November 30, I am going to (try to) write a 50,000 word novel. See what I mean? I’ve lost my mind!

I decided to run this past Wade yesterday, before I actually commited to anything, to see if it sounded as insane when I said it out loud as it did in my head, and he said, ‘Good for you! Do it!’ which I took as a good sign. Then he said, ‘You know, writing a novel isn’t something I ever wanted to do,’ and I said, ‘Me either!’ and I signed up anyway. BECAUSE I HAVE LOST MY MIND.

But I have been wanting, for a while, to write about something other than my children, and I think this will force me to do it. So I’m going to write a novel! Now if you will excuse me, I have two days to figure out what my novel is going to be about. I think I need a drink.