Life - today, anyway

So I'm a little tired.  Have been a lot lately.  Since I was 18 I have had some kind of heart murmur.  The aortic valve has three cuspids.  Mine only has two.  Not a big deal unless the valve begins to harden and/or thicken.  That may be the case.  Lately my heart will beat like a fish out of water for HOURS.  It's ridiculous.  So now I am wearing a heart monitor.  If I were a thief it would have come in handy today at Krogers.  It set off the alarm and all I had to do was show a couple of wires and mumble,  "Heart monitor."  It was kind of funny because security got this "I feel sorry for you" look on their faces and waved me on.  I thought, man, I could have just lied or loaded my buggy with loot and they would've never known until somebody upstairs reviewed the store video! :)  Then it would have just sucked to be profiled on Good Morning America the next day.  Not that it bothered my little girl who asked if we could go to Wal Mart and swipe a Nintendo DS.  (Don't get any ideas, she's a good kid with a sense of humor as bad as mine.)
I've learned a couple of things this week, though.  One, I'm mortal.  That sucks.  I mean, if something happened to me (you know what I'm talking about) I'd be kind of pissed.  (As if I would be conscious of this life anymore.)  First, I know my husband.  Bless his heart, he's the best.  But the man can't sleep by himself, nor would he.  He'd be married inside of a year.  That would piss me off.  Because I figure she'd be younger, prettier and funnier than me.  Notice that in my narcissism I didn't mention first that I was concerned for my children.  In my defense, I've already tackled that in a letter I wrote to them this week, you know, just in case not only my heart, but I start flopping like a fish out of water.  Crude, ain't I?
Now I'm laughing.  My heart is fluttering so I've just pressed the record button on my monitor only to look to the right of my screen to see a "Take the Go Red Heart CheckUp" advertisement from the American Heart Association.  Not funny guys.  Not funny at all! (As I smile)
I asked my husband last week,  "Did I teach them enough?"  (referring to my children)  He smiled.  "More."  He didn't assure me I was going to be fine.  He just answered my question and it threw me.  I realized that he's scared.  I haven't seen him this concerned since my first bout with cancer (I've beaten it twice) when I refused to end my pregnancy with my daughter Laura to save my life.  My heart has never bothered me in this way before.  I've never gotten out of breath after a meal, so much so that I had to sit down and rest.  It's disconcerting.  I'm only in my 30's.  Hey, God, I was just joking when I said I never planned to get out of my 30's! I only planned to lie to people for as long as I thought I could pass it off.  You understand that logic, right?
What can I do? I pray.  I wait.  Then I look around my house and think,  "Man, if I die and Stan's family sees my house like this they'll find out that I'm a slob and just made it LOOK like I was the perfect house cleaner."  THAT really bothers me.  I'm an artist, and we tend to be disorganized.  I take it to the extreme.  I'm so ADD that I once forgot to pick my preacher's kid up from school and left my own baby in the back seat of my car in inner city Montgomery, Alabama.  (Didn't tell my husband for 10 years about that one!)  I don't have a junk drawer.  I have a utensil drawer.  Every other drawer in the house --- those are my junk drawers!!  I'll be caught:  Renee is a slob.  Fortunately I don't think there's the emotion of embarrassment in heaven.   (In case any of you wonder where I'll be residing in the after life.)
Totally unrelated to this subject, I've learned something else this week.  It's not just writers that tend to be crazy.  It's the  producers and developers and backers as well.  I've signed what feels like a million contracts lately.  One company liked my work so much they offered me hundreds of dollars per script revision.  Another company offered me thousands to rework an entire website.  I haven't seen a script yet.  Nor have I gotten the go-ahead on the web site.
A producer sent me one contract that was so ridiculous that I called her in California only to hear some smart ass 20-something on the line tell me in as condescending a voice as she could muster,  "I don't feel there is any need for me to hold your hand through this.  We are professionals."
Well, Miss Professional...I had the a friend of mine who happens to be involved in publishing look at your contract and he couldn't make heads or tails of it.  She coughs and adds some,  "I appreciate that feed-back" bullshit then has the nerve to say,  "It was pretty standard, right off the INTERNET!!!"
Are you kidding me? I just wrestled with a contract some kid in L.A. downloaded off the internet? How the hell did she access the "professional" writing site I obtain work from? I'm sorry honey, what did you say? I couldn't hear you over the crumpling of your bullshit contract.
Then there is pay.  I had to fight with paypal over some glitch with my account for a week just so I could get paid by a company in Colorado that I did some work for.  They really liked my work.  They are offering me more.  Great.  If they'd actually pay me it'd be better.  Haven't seen a dime.  Babysitting paid better than this.
So, that's my life this week.  I'm all over the map and I shrug because it's alright.  It's me.  It's my life.  And it's good. :)