There's no other way of saying it... sometimes I'm just a dumbass.
The background here is I recently made a major professional decision - I left the literary agency I've been with since 2003. (We had a great run and I have nothing but good things to say about them, yet it was time for a change.)
Because it's really disrespectful to seek other representation while still under contract - kind of like finding a new spouse while still married to the old one - I'm currently a free agent.
Right now I should be contacting writer friends/editors to find out who might share my artistic vision. I should be scanning deals in Publisher's Marketplace to see which agents represent authors I admire. I should be placing the finishing touches on my new memoir proposal so said agent has something to sell right out of the gate. And I should be booking a trip to New York to take meetings.
"Should" is the operative word here.
What I have been doing is playing this free game I downloaded on my iPad.
"Free" is also an operative word because I'm pathologically opposed to forking over $1.99 for an app (except for Still Tasty which is essentially an online keep-my-dumb-ass-from-getting-food-poisoning-again program.) I like to say that the ghost of Steve Jobs does not need my dollar.
(Too soon for Steve Jobs jokes?)
Anyway, instead of doing my professional due diligence, I've been lost in the world of an iPad children's game because clearly locating the hidden wine glass, baguette, and hamster is more important than finding an agent to take my career to the next level.
I know, right? And yet that isn't even the stupid part.
The stupid part is that in my fervor to unlock the hidden room more quickly, I may or may not have kept clicking the cheater button to BUY various game aids. And, if the iTunes receipt Fletch received in his inbox is to be believed, I... kind of spent sixty dollars.
In a day.
On gremlin-killing geld and elf-slaying diamonds.
Despite my arguments that this is a FREE game, Fletch is now threatening to cancel my corporate credit card and slap a parental lock on my iPad if I can't stop being a dumbass.
Which I plan to do right now...
...because the game's magical Christmas tree won't spit out a new present for another three hours and sixteen minutes.
Fortunately, I've made a career out of being a dumbass.
So there's that.