Oh that Man!

If my writing took human form "it" would certainly be a man. When I first set eyes on him, it's love at first sight. I want to be with him all the time. He's beautiful, baffling, and mysterious, and he is way out of my league. He is McSteamy, I am McDorky. He is Shakespeare, I am Danielle Steele. He is chocolate cake, I am chocolate cake made with Splenda. I show him off to all my friends and family. "Look at my lovely Mr. Writing," I brag. "Oh, he's nice," people say. Or, "He is so funny!" But soon things get out of control. I become obsessed with him. I find myself neglecting laundry, cleaning, and other household chores. I commit the cardinal sin, and put my children in front of the TV for two hours, just so I can indulge him. I can't sleep at night because he inserts countless ideas into my brain. Before I know it, I am resentful at him. "You take up all my time!" I scream at him. "And for what?" I cry out, "It's not like any of your stinkin' ideas make me any money!" He thinks he's so clever, I think to myself, he and all those books said, that if I spent all my available time with him, I would receive some kind of payoff-- phooey! I finally decide something must be done. No more piles of laundry, zombified TV children, and sleep-deprived me. But for all his inadequacies, I just can't leave him. I decide, our relationship has to be on my terms; kids nap time and maybe an hour or two in the evenings during the week. Okay, and maybe a little time on the weekends. But it's no use, we both know I will fold eventually. After all, he made me write an entry for my blaaag at an unspeakable hour. I wish my writing would take on the form of a dog instead--maybe then I could be the dominant one in the relationship, but with my luck it would be a rabid Pitbull.