Sipping champagne (not purchased from Trader Joe’s, but a hip Silver Lake wine store) from a crystal flute with precious ridges, eating dark chocolate covered marzipan bon bons from a heart shaped box in Tiffany’s-blue, so enjoying my spine embedded in the vaguely humming, black-leather-model back-massager-chair, Glee or DWTS or some realm of CSI on the TV and thinking I’m done with edits on my short story and that I’m absolutely ready to submit it. Aaaannnnd—kidding. Except for the edits part. Which means I’ll take a fresh look in the morning–and no doubt edit some more (between playdates, naptime, crafts involving googly eyes, cleaning up cat gak, Finding Nemo and the preparation of toddler-friendly meals—if such meals are truly possible).