"You look tired."

Hi, we're Kat & Erika. We think this stuff's funny so we're writing a webseries about it. Tidbits, inspiration, and progress notes, as well as self-deprication, yummy baked goods, and mothering at >1 Chablis deep. Upstate Manhattan.

[katanderikalooktired]

Am I supposed to feel grateful or offended that this product exists? *clicks add to cart*

[katanderikalooktired]

true story

It's a gorgeous day out today, if you don't look at all the greybrowngross slush on the ground, unseasonably warm for February at 36 degrees F. I just came back from an invigorating dog park run with my beast (pictured above in full flight.) The whole way home I had my head in this scene I needed to write and I was switching in-between the mental flesh-out of the scene and of course, y'know, EVERYTHING ELSE IN MY LIFE. When I got back in the apartment, I was making soda water for myself when a bit of dialogue from yet another scenario bade me to trot in here from the kitchen, fire up the iMac, go pee while I was waiting for it to fire, and then come back here to write it down. It was only after I feverishly wrote out these new bits, and then paused for a bit to think that I heard the rustling of the bedsheets as our at-least-25%-Dachshund tried to dig her way into the pillows at the head of the bed. Oops. I hadn't wiped the road goop off her paws and low-hanging belly. Time to change the sheets. 

I realize this isn't a big deal in the end. Right? I'm an adult; I have another set of sheets, they're clean even! It's really more that I'm just the teeniest amount (a healthy amount, I would say) germ-phobic and I have never, in the almost eight months we've had her, let the dog on the bed at all, never mind snuffling around in the pillows, without wiping her down with baby wipes and/or a towel. Vigorously.

That's how how excited I am about writing this show. 

-erika