It starts with a run at dawn, followed by coffee and a long, hot shower. I come downstairs to find the entire house clean, the laundry all caught up, the older kids ready for school and the twins ready for preschool. I kiss them all good-bye and someone else drives them all. I write for four hours until someone serves me the perfect lunch. I take a long walk. I write for another hour because my husband decides to pick up the twins and take them to a playground. The twins come home from preschool happy, healthy, cooperative and not fighting. The older kids come home from school happy, healthy, cooperative and not fighting. I write off and on the rest of the day while the kids tell me about school, play and do homework without battle. Someone else makes and serves dinner and cleans it up. The kids give me tons of hugs and kisses and go to bed all by themselves. Someone else makes their lunches for the next day while I goof around on the Internet. Just as my husband and I are settling in for a little red wine and a mindless sitcom, the phone rings. It's our real estate agent, saying she sold our Cincinnati house for way more than it's worth. Then the phone rings again. It's my agent saying he's sold my first novel to a major publisher for a huge advance and that, by the way, he's sold the movie rights too.
How's that?