The Comm Dept made me do it

The surly one in the middle is our dog, Gaucho. The other two are puppets.

You know you are a packrat when…

…a search in the garage for a box of Halloween decorations unearths a long-forgotten box of puppets. Let the mirth ensue!

Corri nowadays. Notice her vacant, zombie-like expression. She calls it "thinking." What's that?

November is National Novel Writing Month, nicknamed NaNoWriMo. I could do it one better and just say “No.”

Wait, that was last decade’s over-spoofed tagline….

I will just say NoMo-a-WriGato, Mr. Roboto! Better?

The shocking truth of the matter is that No is – in fact – an evil abductor who has stolen my wife away from me and replaced her with a bleary-eyed, Macbook-lugging, night zombie who only goes clackity-clack, click, click, [spacebar]. This isn’t Sparta. This is madness!

Wait, that was last year’s played-out catchphrase….

This isn’t just madness. This is… Paranormal Activity!!!

She used to smile, my wife. Looking back, it is difficult to remember her the way she once was: well-rested, unfulfilled and happy (no wait, that was me). For despite her constant puzzled expression, she claims to be enjoying herself. Despite her frequent staring contests with her computer’s screen, she emerges triumphant at the end of each day. Her 50k-word marathon, she assures us, shall be won by month’s closing.

Will you be happy then, No? Will that quench your literary thirst? Will all the words written and all the double caramel frappuccinos glugged in Your Name be sacrifice enough?

Will you return my wife to me then, NaNoWriMo? What’s left of her….