Cat bites my ankles again. I stomp after her just to scare her, but realize that today I’d like to do more than that.
Mister tugs at my arm.
“Outside! Outside!” he screams. I explain for the bujillionth time that we can’t go out because it is raining but he continues to pull.
I eye the freeze-dried yogurt snacks on the counter. Both Mister and Cat love them. Ignoring the temptation to put all three in the front room and let the two little critters fight to the death, I pour some in Mister’s snack bowl and snap on the lid. I shove them at Mister and retreat to find my lukewarm cup of coffee.
I’m a little irritable today. Is it the rain? Or that I’ve just opened another rejection letter? Whichever it is, I’m ready to throw in the towel on this day. Too bad it is only 9:30am.
After how many rejection letters do you think a writer should throw in the towel?