You know, one of those that the dangling window washers in NYC last week were sporting?
The kind that keeps you calm and cool in, well, life’s most dangling moments?
Yep, one of those. In red, if you’ve got it.
Thankfully, my dog already has one and is firmly tethered to my side (despite her very rational protests and her squiggling, furry behind).
Yesterday, I had a bit of a “yawning, gaping, what-the-crap-am-I-doing moment.”
The reality that I am no longer contracted by anybody anywhere to publish another word in the entirety of my life jumped up and bit me in the butt.
As expected, I yelped.
Flailed a bit.
And, surprisingly, recovered. (Yeah, I didn’t expect that either.)
Facing the cavernous mainstream romance genre is occasionally scary-as-all-heck.
While I am adjusting slowly to the challenge facing me, the lack of any kind of a safety harness (i.e. a contract with Ravenous Romance to fall back upon, which I’ve clung to for the last 5 years) does send my nerves a-chattering sometimes.
Sometimes was yesterday.
Hence, my harness request.
Size 8, please.