Humble Pie

I promised Editress that I would remind the interwebs how right she and B were about coffee and how entirely without sense I must have been not to drink it until this year.  So here’s my piece of humble pie, Editress.  Enjoy, it’s delicious (like coffee).

Me before my afternoon cup of coffee:

“Oh my God, why can’t my children both sleep AT THE SAME TIME for ONCE?!?  I’m so tired I’m going to die.  In fact, I might already be dead.  Am I dead?  No, I don’t think I’m dead, because dead people don’t have to change diapers.  How am I going to summon deathless prose as I edit chapter 13 of Braving the Brontes if I’m this tired?  Is it bedtime yet?  No?  What do you mean it’s only 2 in the afternoon?  I think you’re lying.”

Me after half a cup of coffee:

“Oh, I know!  What if Carly does this!  Yes! Then it makes sense when this happens!  Oh! Oh! I know, I know!!  What if I delete that line and put in this one! Yes!  Good idea!  EDIT ALL THE THINGS!”

Today’s session of “Deathless Prose” was brought to you by the letter “C”.  Because “C” stands for Coffee and Commish (who took the Cranky Captain for a Constitutional so I could Copy-edit (okay, that last “C” was a stretch)).

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