A conversation with my black dog
Posted on November 5th, 2012
Me: Hey, I’m way ahead of the NaNoWriMo curve today. And I just finished a draft of another novel.
Black Dog: Nice. How exactly is that going to help you pay bills?
Me: Look, I have to do something while Pea is at school.
BD: So you’re writing at a cafe. How precious of you. Why don’t you get a real job?
Me: Dog, I look at the damned listings every day.
BD: And you apply how often?
Me: Did I mention that most of the attorney listings I see are for practice areas that make me want to stab my eyes out?
BD: Again, how is that helping your family?
Me: It’s not. But I’m not signing up to help lenders foreclose on houses, no matter how poor we are. I’d rather eat potatoes every meal.
BD: The way you’re going, you might get to.
Me: Thanks, buddy.
BD: No problem. Well, don’t let it bother you too much. After two years of not practicing law, it isn’t like you’ll actually look like an attractive job candidate.
BD: You know you could get a job at Starbucks and make more money than you do with your precious writing and editing. And you might even be able to afford more than a cup of coffee while you write at the cafe.
BD: You still editing? How well did that editing thing work out for you again?
Me: In a nutshell, I got screwed.
BD: How many hours of your life did you waste on that?
Me: Too damned many.
BD: If you’d looked into it beforehand, that wouldn’t have happened.
BD: And you know the odds for getting these novels of yours published by a Big Six (or Five) publisher, right?
Me: Yeah. I know the odds.
BD: Why don’t you just buy a lottery ticket? I think you can do better.
Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
BD: If you had a real job, you could afford for Pea to have more lessons. Music, Swimming, Soccer.
Me: Yeah. I’ve thought of that.
BD: Doesn’t it bug you when Pea asks about traveling places and you know you can’t afford it? How is that “Oh, hon. We will someday” excuse working for you?
Me: It’s working for now.
BD: Also, that weird noise your car is making. Doesn’t that worry you?
Me: Yeah, it does.
BD: And still no real job.
Me: I thought we covered this already. Besides, one of us has to be available for Pea, because even if I did work, we’d be up a tax bracket and out a fortune for full day/before/aftercare.
BD: And it might as well be the one who doesn’t have any job prospects. Like you.
Me: Right. Look, this isn’t a very productive conversation — what did I do with that Klonopin? *rifles through handbag*
BD: Has it ever occurred to you that you’re delusional? Like certifiably crazy?
Me: Right now? Yes.
BD: Maybe that’s why you and your family can’t get along. It’s your fault for being so proud.
Me: Possibly, although I did get my shrink to sign off on that one.
BD: How’s therapy going?
Me: When I can afford to go, great.
BD: You want me to check to see if Starbucks is hiring?
Me: Fuck you, dog.