So… I came downstairs early this morning and my family room looked as though a murder (maybe two) had occurred there. Giant red/brown spots on the couch, and several large spots (more than two feet long) on the carpet. We have three dogs, one is 130 lbs and still growing. My mind instantly went there. Ugh. But there was no smell and it was kind of weird looking. More like blood.
I’d just bought that streamcleaning stuff for pets. Assuming the worst, I used two whole cans. It worked pretty well on the couch. The carpet, well I never liked that carpet anyway. BUT flash forward eight hours. None of the dogs seemed to be ill or dying. No one in the house seemed to know what happened, except I deduced it happened between 7:30 and 8:00 in the morning.
But I couldn’t let it go. I had to know. By putting together the snippets that each person in the house had heard or seen, I put the puzzle together. Turned out, Harley the giant dog from hell, had seen our visitor, Buttons (MIL’s Shih-Tzu) get her eye medicine this morning. It’s brown and powdery. Harley gets very jealous if she doesn’t get some of what other pooches are getting… The entire bottle, which was probably full, had been destroyed. Harley will have very clean eyes, for a very long time. But the vet says she’ll be okay.
This, my friends, is the glam life of an author/tv and film critic/editorial director/entrepreneur/almost former TCA president (THank YOU JESUS!). People always ask how I do everything. Well, the truth is, I never know what the day might hold. One day I may be cleaning up a murder scene in my living room for hours. And then off to see my Hollywood stylists who gives me the evil eye if I don’t wear makeup to get my hair done. The next I might be interviewing a celeb with a summer TV show, and then taking the guys to a preview of The Lone Ranger.
Oh, then I’ll have two columns and a cover story to write, and a book to edit when I get home at midnight. People think my life is so glamorous. It’s interesting, but glam — not so much. :) My house is never as clean as I would like it to be. There is a stack of laundry in my laundry room that is actually taller than me. (I’m kind of afraid of it.) My dogs are spoiled rotten (so are my children, but in a good way, at least that is what I tell myself).
Every day is different. I sit in front of my computer a lot. I write a lot. But I also have so much paper work between Covet, Columns and editor chick that it can swallow me for hours. There’s reader an listener email. I get upwards of 1500 emails a day on one business account and I have five. There are publicist pitching things. There are my own publicists telling me to do “stuff.” There are books to write and revise. There are bosses, yes I do have them, yelling at me. Just like everyone else in the world.
It never stops. Ever. Really. There isn’t a day I wake up when I don’t have something pending/urgent that needs to be done.
And that’s the way I like it. I took exception a few months ago when someone says, “You get to be just an author.” I’m proud to be an author. If I’m being honest, it’s my favorite part of everything that’s going on right now. BUT I’m not “just anything.” I’m a lot of things.
There are some people who think I’m a complete bitch, others call me Goddess (of course I like them best). My life isn’t always so glam, but it is mine and I’m grateful. Even when I come downstairs and find a murder has been committed in my living room.