Madhousewife: I have an idea. Why don’t you and Mister Bubby play video games while Princess Zurg and I build her bookcase?

Sugar Daddy: Okay. Are you sure you want to build it?

Mad: Unless you don’t want me to.

SD: If you want to, go ahead.

Mad: Then when it turns out like crap, you can walk in there everyday and go, “Argh–women!”

SD: I do that everyday anyway.

Mad: Well, that’s what I’m saying.

Saturday is not my favorite day of the week. I like Friday night because I go to bed thinking I’m going to sleep in the next day. Which I do, but come actual Saturday morning, waking up later than usual, it never feels like enough sleeping in. So the anticipation of sleeping in is really better than the sleeping in itself. And my husband has a way of making me feel guilty for wasting the day away by sleeping past 9 a.m. 9:30 is somewhere between decadence and pure sloth. 10:00 is flirting-with-eternal-damnation territory.

To be fair, he only has this effect on me because I too have this mindset that everything important should happen before noon. I just don’t have the temperament for it, unlike some people I know personally and very well. SD is a morning person. I am more of a 10:30-2:00 person. Whether it be 10:30 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. or 10:30 p.m. to 2:00 a.m., it really doesn’t matter. I like to hang around the meridians. That’s when I feel most alive. The rest of the 24 hours really don’t do it for me. There’s probably a pill I could take for that, but instead I have SD and my conscience to keep me awake and functioning.

Anyway, back to Saturday. I don’t like Saturday very much because it tends to be a day of intensity. I’m not an intensity person. Which is probably why I was attracted to SD because he is an intensity person. It’s a good thing, you know, it’s like that yin and yang, blue and yellow make green, etc., usw. But it is not really my intention to write an essay about how awesome my husband is and what a great counterpart he makes to my non-awesomeness. I was kind of hoping to complain about how he always ruins my Saturdays with his crazy plans for “accomplishing something” or “spending time together as a family.” Every Saturday is either a work Saturday or a play Saturday–and you know me: I am just a big blob of lazy goo. I neither work hard nor play hard. I just want to sit around and do nothing sometimes. Okay, all of the time. That’s me. That’s why SD married me–SO HE COULD REFORM ME.

So two Saturdays ago I helped PZ go through the boxes that have been sitting at the foot of her bed ever since we moved back into the house after the fire–that would be almost a year ago, yes, very good–and we cleaned out under her bed and stuff, and it was a nightmarish process that lasted several hours, but in the end I was glad we did it. Except for the part where at the end her room looked worse than it did when we started, but that’s not the point. The point was that something was accomplished. There are no longer 6-9 boxes sitting at the foot of her bed. There are three boxes hanging out in the hall, waiting to be taken down to the garage by someone with greater upper body strength than myself. Who could such a person be? Well, Superman is going to move into my neighborhood. Maybe he will be my new pool boy. When I get a pool. Give me a break, we’ve only been back in the house 11 months. Where was I? I was going to start a new paragraph.

You see, I am tired because I didn’t sleep in this morning, and it is not yet the meridian.

Anyway, it was a sunny day on Saturday, and since we all worked so hard last Saturday, SD was making noises about taking the kids on a hike or something, and I said that sounded fine because the last time he asked me if I wanted to do something fun and I said no, he got mad. Anyway, we were going to go on a hike, but then it became apparent that although the day was bright and sunny, it was still colder than hiking weather, and Mister Bubby was sick, so hiking suddenly seemed a poorer idea. That’s when I got the idea that SD and MB should play video games, and I should go build a bookcase because what I definitely didn’t want to do was end up going to the Saturday market downtown because that would have SUCKED. Also, I just felt like building a bookcase. Sometimes I just do. It was 10:30 a.m. and I was in the zone, you might say.

It totally doesn’t look like crap, incidentally. And PZ helped. She nailed some stuff. And some of the places where she nailed stuff, it looks a little like crap, but those are on the bottom of the bookshelf and thus don’t really count.

My novel, on the other hand, IS crap. I totally have not NoWri’d this NaMo. It was a foolish plan. I would need a month of Saturdays and SD cracking the proverbial whip every twenty minutes to write a novel. And the threat of Saturday market with four children in 50 degree weather. I just haven’t had the right supports, my friends. But the failure is mine, not yours.