My life is a Salvador Dali painting...

I feel like my life is a Salvador Dali painting but without any of the humour. It is all very surreal as I have been dragged unwillingly into the universe of that sad ass drooping clock. I thought for sure I would go mental about a month ago as I waited impatiently to hear back from anyone in any of the different publishing houses at which I have thrown my work. And here we are a month later and nothing has changed (except maybe that a bunch of publishing professionals have gone on holiday - at least three from three different houses - which pushes any decision making back another 3 or 4 weeks). My clock is definitely wilting. As Tim Roth (in-character) said on Lie to Me the other night, "patience is overrated." I'm with you Tim. I find the only reward for my patience has been more waiting. I am choosing to self medicate with chocolate, wine and DVD watching and managing to plod through the days in a weird kind of haze. How did Dali know?

And whats with all the mud. I spend too much time scrubbing mud out of boy clothes. That'll teach me for having a son, especially one who likes to wallow in the stuff (he does have a nice complexion though). Elinor Dashwood knew what she was talking about when she lamented that she was experiencing all the punishments of loving someone without any of the rewards. I feel that way about mud. I don't know that that was what Jane Austen was trying to tell us but it just goes to show her themes are timeless and widely applicable.

Loved this post over at fellow writer Tania Hutley's blog. I am curious to know what the website where Tania found that lovely quote is trying to sell. Luck perhaps?