You broke the toilet seat? How did that happen?

I had no idea you guys were so interested in hearing about my life! Over the past few weeks of internet silence, I have received dozens, nay tens of emails and letters asking me when I would post my next entry. Flattered, embarrassed, shamed, intrigued, giddy, gassy...those are just a few of the emotions these encouraging emails have within me stirred. Normally I prefer to have my emotions shaken, not stirred, but I still feel compelled to once again regale my faithful readers with tales of the past, current, and possibly fictional occurrences of my life.

I'm on hiatus from work. During this time off, I'm supposed to be doing all these important, creative things that will help me move my life in a positive, rewarding direction. Instead, I've been getting distracted. Online poker, television, castings (I'm still kind of working), and online poker have been taking up large portions of my free time. My parents came into town for a week, and that was a welcome distraction.

I'm the only member of my family that is still not living in Indiana. After my brother's family moved back last summer and my little sister got married (which can firmly plant anyone in suburbia), I was the sole Sumnyr left for my parents to visit. But when my parents visit me, they don't come to catch up on the goings on in my life. We don't go on any scenic trips or plays or do much of anything that is considered vacationing. Instead, they come to help me straighten up my life. No complaining here. This time I needed their help.

Instead of staying in a hotel, my parents stayed with me in my apartment. We all slept in the same room, because no one wanted to sleep in the kitchen. They purchased a queen-size bed to sleep in and then give to me. Actually, the charity guys were just here to pick up my twin bed and take it away. So there's one great thing from my parents' visit. I finally have a grown-up bed. And though it was a generous gift from my parents, I do feel like I paid for it a little. I did stay in the same room with my parents for a week at the age of 28. That's a serious test of stamina. I did consider smothering my father with a pillow one night due to his snoring. It's awful, the snoring. It sounds unhealthy. Painful at times. Labored. Stuttered. Loud. Sometimes whistles. I tried putting Kleenex in my ears the first night, but I was scared to roll on my side and have tissue forced into my brain.

My mom and dad bought me a bunch of stuff I needed, mostly from the 99 Cents Store. We went to a restaurant nearby called Mimi's for lunch one day, and my dad was so impressed by the portion of pot roast he received, that he insisted that we eat there each day. It was a lot of pot roast. My mother cleared out the mountain of boxes, books, and junk that had taken over my kitchen. My apartment is now officially presentable thanks to my mother's cleaning and expert placement of three pictures, a dart awards plaque, a table, and a light that actually turns on when you hit the light switch by the door. Not to mention all the scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, and general cleaning of the place. I have a new toilet seat, too. My dad broke the old one on his first of many extended trips to my bathroom. The seat cracked in two. Perhaps Mimi's is a little too generous with the pot roast.

Luckily, my mom apparently didn't find the condoms stored in an extra-bathroom-item-Tupperware. It would have been awkward trying to explain to her how long they have been there. "It's not like I'm using them anyway, mom!" She did however see a t-shirt of mine that says in bold letters, "Poke smot?" I told her that someone gave it to me, laughed it off, and put it in my drawer of shirts I was keeping.

It was a good visit, but now that they're gone I'm finding it difficult to get anything done. I have this overpowering urge to be lazy. Except for my morning hikes. Those are going strong.

Today, I have to write a treatment for a short film that my friend wants to make. Basically, I have to tell the story in paragraph form with no dialogue. There isn't hardly any dialogue in the story to begin with, so that part won't be difficult. However, I'm adding a new scene to the film AND I'm making adjustments to the whole story to make it better for screen. Originally, it was just a short story, so some of the story elements have to change. I can't describe anything. Everything has to be told visually.

I know all these things about what makes a story work and about how films can be entertaining or boring. I'm an excellent critic when it comes to this topic, however, I really don't have much experience actually creating. I'm a writer that never writes. In other words, I'm having doubts about my abilites. It's something I'll have to work through. I know that as soon as I sit down and start writing, everything will come out fine...and that I'll enjoy the process. But, I'm lazy you understand.