“To talk about adults without talking about their sex drives is like talking about a window without glass.”

–G.M.

Today I am frustrated. I sat down to write my dumb, ugly comic, which I haven’t done for weeks, partly due to travel and busyness, and I couldn’t. Every time I picked up a pen this morning to write my cartoon, Strudel suddenly needed to be glued to my lap. I tried three times and then gave up. She is teething and accidentally hitting her head on things, because she’s staggering around imbalanced.

I know I could lock myself into a room or hide in the basement. Strudel’s dad encourages me to do this. I do this a lot when I’m writing. But, I don’t know…I just wanted to sit at the table while he made breakfast and draw and think. And I can’t.

I had forgotten about this phase. This is the phase where they SMELL IT if you make any attempt to do something creative. I think it’s a survival instinct. I think that they fear you may abandon them if you realize there’s life outside of Caring For Offspring. And some people do. There’s that story about Grace Metalious, who growled at her children if they even came near her while she was writing Payton Place.

Strudel’s too little to really have her work with me, or on her own project, because she gets bored with things after about thirty seconds and menaces whatever I’m doing. This is so familiar to me now. Franny went through this too, and it lasts for ABOUT A YEAR. This is comforting and terrifying at the same time. When I had Franny, I thought I had totally lost myself indefinitely. But I know next fall Strudel will go to school and be all, “See ya, Mom.”

And people ask me why I don’t paint anymore. Dear god, it takes me at least twenty minutes to set up. I would get about halfway through setting up and the kid would be melting down.

It’s a rough couple of days. I am taking everything personally. I went to my once-favorite Ballard bookstore, Epilogue Books, and the clerks were talking so loudly about their favorite bar and OH MY GOD did you see that that guy was THERE AGAIN last night? that I was chased out of the fiction section. I have worked retail and I think clerks should be able to talk to each other to stay sane and all, but quit shouting across the fucking racks.

And when I went to check out, the clerk rang me up and just stared at me. I hate that, when you can’t even see the total, and they just STARE AT YOU. This is retail. Follow the fucking ritual. Tell me the total. Ask me if I have store credit (I do.) I love that store when the nice clerks are working, but the closing shifts are often extra dolty. I walked in there a couple of months ago and was snottily greeted with “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.” Fifteen minutes is plenty of time to pick out a book. I turned around and walked out. And now I remember why I haven’t been in there in a couple of months.

After that we went to the grocery store and the checker seemed to hate us and/or everything we were buying, because of the way she was shoving and throwing our groceries around.

But today we are going BLACKBERRYING, and that will be good, or else I will personally burn the next surly clerk I see at the stake. I KNOW your job sucks. I had your job. Stay in school. Get a job behind the scenes where I don’t have to see your ugly sullen face, or worse yet, a blank stare.

Usually I would chalk this up to hormones, but today I think I have earned the right to be generally angry. ANGRY! And no one can save me from it. It just has to wear off…eventually I will wake up and be not-green, and wearing large pants that are in tatters.

And then Ima go to the damn mall with my sister. Retail therapy for JERKS! YEAH!

UPDATE! 11/2/07

Holy cow, tonight I got an email from the owners of Epilogue Books. They are smart, smart, smart to google themselves. They were sad to see that I had a bad experience there last year, and I told them I had been coming back and things had been totally fine. And that I even recommend their store. I RECOMMEND EPILOGUE BOOKS IN BALLARD. Apparently the grumpy clerks have been let go.

Woot!