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The manuscript for my third book, She, Myself & I, is sitting in piles on my dining room table. Every time Sam motors by he reaches up, grabs a stack and then throws it around him like confetti.

"You know that diaper you're wearing? And the college that you'll someday be attending? That's all being paid for by those papers you're tossing around," I told him sternly.

Sam just giggled. He seems to have no concept of the word deadline.

Posted 05 October 2004 at 11:14 AM