What Writing One Thousand Six Hundred and Sixty Seven Words a Day Is Like

At first it’s awful. Because you think you aren’t funny at all.

And then you accept not being funny. Which makes everything ok and somehow you manage to be funny again.

And then you skip a day. Which is fine, these things happen.

But then you skip another day. And you pretend that’s fine too. You can make it up on the weekend- in the words of the youth “Whatevs”.

And then the weekend arrives and you realize you have to write eight thousand words and you’re all

“This is the end of my life!”

And then you get bedsores from sitting in your kitchen chair, not moving and staring at a computer screen. So you vow never ever, ever to get behind again.

For a little while you don’t. And you even get used to writing THAT MUCH every single day, day in day out.

It becomes a thing that you do. Other people have fun lives in the evenings and you write.

But then something happens again and you miss a day. Which is ok, these things happen, it’s just sixteen hundred words, why you banged that out in under two hours last night, no biggie, break it up over a couple of days.

True to your word, you do makeup a little bit writing twenty one hundred words the next day. But then, oh that nasty life, it happens again. And suddenly you find yourself staring down the barrel of five thousand words for one weekend.

So like any good person you put it off. Until seven pm when Canada has become a cold, dark, horrible foreboding place that’s going to sit on your chest and feed you the monthly writing challenge until you cry and churn out the necessary words.

For such a polite country Canada can be a dick sometimes.

So you write words. And you don’t like them. So you write more words. And you like some of them. Then you email your friend who tells you to keep going. So you write about cupcakes because who doesn’t love cupcakes then you look at the screen and think “My God why am I writing about cupcakes?”

That’s what National Novel Writing Month is like. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get up and stretch because my butt is numb.

*I didn’t actually get bedsores. It just felt like I did. I’m fairly certain my butt has retained the shape of my wooden chairs though.

Puzzle Shopping

So this post is a little late. I wrote it on Canada’s birthday weekend. That’s right all my international readers, you missed Canada’s birthday. But it’s ok. I don’t know your birthday so I certainly don’t expect you to know mine or my country’s for that matter. Although I do expect you to know about my toe bandaids. They’re amazing and protect the soles of your toes from forming blisters in any type of footwear. These bandaids are so awesome that it doesn’t even matter that I haven’t invented them yet.


Roscoe bought me a puzzle for the long weekend.

A bit of information for my non-Canadian friends; around here we take the birth of our nation very seriously, we discount beer, pack kegs onto trucks and then ship our populous to cottages. The ultimate birthday party. Except I wasn’t invited. Roscoe had important doctor studying to do and wanted me out of his hair, hence he bought me the best puzzle in the whole world.

Nederlands: Cupcake Versiering

Not these exact cupcakes but pretty close. More than once I stopped myself from licking the pieces.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It featured thirty-nine multicoloured cupcakes. I finished it Monday night just as Roscoe was putting the finishing touches on a set of notes so heavy and cumbersome that they almost match my truck’s snow tires in size and weight.

Buying the world’s best puzzle doesn’t sound like an incredible feat, but it is. Only those who have purchased truly bad puzzles can understand. And tragically, unlike melons, the girls at the checkout won’t tell you when you’ve got a bad one.


Buying a Moldy Melon at the Grocery Store

Cashier at the Grocery Store – “Uh Ma’am?”

The Great Unwashed in a high-pitched, slightly panicked voice – “That will wipe right off! Honest.”

Slightly amused but really just tired Cashier at the Grocery Store- “Huh?”

The Great Unwashed who is visibly relieved at this point-“Never mind.”

Cashier at the Grocery Store- “Do you want to go grab another melon? This one is covered in mold.” Holds up a really, really moldy cantaloupe.

The Great Unwashed recoils- “Uuuoollagh, yes.”


That’s what happens at the grocery store.

This is what DOESN’T happen at the puzzle store.

Cashier at the Puzzle Store-“Uh Ma’am”

The Great Unwashed – “That food colouring from the slushie will come right out after eight washes. I swear. And it was an accident.”

Cashier at the Puzzle Store looking slightly quizzical – “Pardon me?”

The Great Unwashed- “I mean how can I help you?”

Cashier at the Puzzle Store now very confused and a little suspicious- “This puzzle you’ve chosen was poorly cut. Not only will the pieces stick together when you are trying to separate them but they will also stick together in ways that they shouldn’t so you will think you’ve solved it but have two giant handfuls of green and blue seagrass left over.”

The Great Unwashed- “Oh! Thank you so much.”  Runs to put the poorly cut puzzle back and returns with a different puzzle with brighter colours that is slightly more expensive.

Cashier at the Puzzle Store- “Uh Ma’am?”

The Great Unwashed- “Those Jolly Ranchers were there the whole time- Scout’s honor!”

Cashier at the Puzzle Store- “What?”

The Great Unwashed- “Has anyone told you that you are a valued part of our community today?”

Cashier at the Puzzle Store blinks with a questioning look- “Ma’am you look like the kind of woman who is a GIANT pain in the butt. This puzzle, although fun looking is too easy for you. My guess is that you’ll finish it in under six hours and then I have no idea what you are going to get up to. Think one thousand pieces not five hundred.”

The Great Unwashed-“ Why I AM a giant pain in the butt! My husband tells me so every day!” Grabs the entertaining looking puzzle and heads back towards the shelves. “Duly noted, thank you!”


That has never happened to me. Ever. I bring home the worst puzzles and then I either give up from frustration or finish them and cause Roscoe to give up work from the frustration of having me in his hair. However this weekend was the exception. Roscoe bought a colourful, one thousand piece, well cut, difficult, cupcake puzzle. The only thing he heard intermittently all three days was

“I love this puzzle!!!!”

And I did. But now it’s finished, which means the crumby hot air balloon puzzle with washed out colours and pieces that stick all together in ways they shouldn’t, will cover our dining room table.

Someone really ought to invent a puzzle connoisseur or a store where people can go to purchase high end, challenging puzzles in the same manner that you’d buy the contents for fruit salad. Perhaps I shall invent that product rather than continuing with my toe bandaid idea.

Also to all those who sent get well cards- Thank you, I’m feeling much better now. My toe sole blisters have nearly healed.

As well, you might be able to understand from this post why Roscoe has gone around to the food courts in our area and handed out flyers with my face on them with the words “Do Not Sell To This Woman” typed underneath. He accuses me of being a messy eater. I counter that he’s narrow minded and I am merely using the world as my plate. Regardless I’ve noticed an increase in the number of stores in the city which have “No Food At Anytime” signs.