It’s 3:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep.

It’s 3:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep. Partly because I took 24-hour non-drowsy cold medicine. (Yeah well, what if you WANT to be drowsy!) And partly because of the melding of melodies. First, the snores of my husband who just had sinus surgery Monday to help him breathe better. (Do you see the irony in this?) Alas, he is still healing and during recovery he is noisier than before. (But that’s okay because I love that man!)

John’s snores joined with the LOUD snores of my grandmother … whose bedroom is exactly below ours. (I made a mental note to myself to have her doctor check her out, too!)

Those two sounds also mixed with the two hamsters, happily running in their squeaky wheels right outside our bedroom door. You see, my mom is currently staying. That means the hamsters got kicked out of my son’s room (where my mom is staying) and were put into the hall.
I just had to giggle at their fight to be loudest! (Well, as much as you can giggle at 2:27 a.m.)

Of course, I laid there for thirty minutes before I finally decided to get up and do something useful … like write this blog! Thinking over my day also brought more (inward) laughter … although I could have laughed out loud and no one would have noticed over the noise!

Three highlights of my day:

1. Watching The Pursuit of Happiness. If you ever feel your life is hard, watch that movie. Seriously. You’ll start spinning and dancing like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music after you watch that poor guy’s struggle. (Will Smith and his son did an excellent job by the way!)

2. Prior to that, I took my son in for a pre-surgery check up. The doctor was checking Cory’s heart rate and lungs and gave us a general idea of how they are going to create a new ACL (knee ligament) from my son’s hamstring. DUMB ME but I ask how they get it the hamstring stay. I mean do they have to attach it to his knee cap with tiny screws? How does that work? (Wouldn’t have you asked, too?)

So … for the next ten minutes the doctor explains in detail what they cut, what they thread through, and what they drill. Would you believe they actually drill a hole through my son’s bones and thread the hamstring pieces through his knee with a long rod that comes out his thigh? (That is the short, undetailed version.) Of course while we’re sitting there, I’m fascinated and my son is getting whiter by the minute. Oooops. BAD MOMMY!

3. Prior to both of those, I signed a contract for my non-fiction book that is due on April 10. I know, that sounds crazy, but sometimes that’s how things work in this business. I get a “yes” and sometimes months and months pass as my agent works with the publisher to finalize every detail. One time (no joke), I signed the contract the same day I turned in the manuscript! Since I’m blessed with FAST deadlines (because-they-love-the-book-so-much-they-want-it-right-now) I mostly write on faith knowing they will purchase the book at the end of my labor.

Anyway, all that to say that after I skimmed through the 291,871 points that address every part of our contractual agreement (it’s my agents job to understand all those points!) I signed in my neatest handwriting that would have made my 6th grade teacher Mrs. Mallory proud. Then I got an large manila envelope off the floor (where I keep them in a neat stack), printed the postage (with my nifty new Stamps.com program), and sealed it up. It was only AFTER I pasted the USPS Priority postage on the envelope, WITH the very legal contract going to New York City sealed inside, THAT I noticed GUM stuck to the envelope. Yes, pink, ABC gum. Don’t ask me how it got there, but with five people and two dogs that occupy the same 10×12 space I wasn’t surprised. (Horrified, by not surprised.)

Now for the dilemma. 1) Unseal the envelope, repackage it and print more postage (it’s going to some fancy office in New York City after all!) OR … 2) Try to remove the sticky gum the best I can. After all, Priority postage isn’t cheap!

I chose option #2. I grabbed that piece of gum and pulled. Then I picked at the remaining stickiness with my fingernail. It didn’t come off completely, but that’s okay. Maybe they’ll find humor in the fact that the contract I signed was for a book titled Blue Like Playdoh … it’s about my spiritual journey as a mom. This is a book about real life. This is a real mom we’re talking about, living in a real house with real gum chewing citizens.

I just hope that contract negotiator in NYC finds humor in that package!

Stop Lurking! Every week I will draw names for a free Tricia Goyer book from those who comment on my blogs. Winner’s choice! Tell your friends.