I blame it all on you.
You know who you are. You short story people out there. You're like Microsoft; if people hang around you all the time, they'll be assimilated. Well, it's my turn now, and I'm not going down without a fight.
Okay, maybe I did get an idea for a short story, and maybe, just maybe I wrote two pages BY HAND in a notebook while I was waiting for the twins to wake up. Then, I realized that I certainly wasn't myself. I've obviously been replaced by a pod person. One of these days, you'll meet me (if you don't happen to know me already), and I'll say, "Hey, dude! You wanna read my short story?"
When that happens, you should run in the opposite direction. Because only Pod Person Carrie would write a short story. And call people "dude." And if you don't run in the opposite direction, I'll probably be ripping my face off and going all crazy alien on your tuckus.
Which probably means that some of you will be staying. You know, because it'll be freaking funny.
I mean, really. What am I thinking? It's not like I don't have enough going on. Between my books, my blog, the whole family thing, and my nefarious plot to take over the world one snarf at a time, my schedule is full. I don't care if the story involves two of my favorite things.
Wanna guess what they are? I'll give you a cookie if you get it right.