Willing your uterus, and keeping distracted

I did not sleep well last night. I got it into my head that I could will my period to start. If I thought about it really hard and contracted what I imagined to be my uterus, I could make the lining sluff off and my period would start. All that happened was that I didn’t sleep much and I nearly shit my pants.

Just after I got in this morning Conspiracy rang to say that he’s definitely on board, under one condition — I’m his agent, because I’m the only person he can trust.

I don’t really know how I feel about this. I guess I’ve kind of been his agent over the last few months, but his decision kind of undermines everyone else at the Agency who have been working their arses off to get these deals. Loraine said to just say ‘Yes’ to Conspiracy, and I’ll just be his first point of contact from now on — as if I already wasn’t.

I emailed London and Parisand reminded everyone that this week was 4th of July, so that’s why we probably haven’t received a receipt reply from the US publishers or PoshMum. They pretended that they knew this, but I could practically hear the face palm.

The day was spent on Conspiracy’s book blog. Papers have now been signed, and the publisher sent over a list of changes. I thought when I presented these to Conspiracy, there was going to be a fight, but he took them without complaint, and said he’d start working on the changes.

I also had a talk with the publishers about promoting the book, and it was my job to talk them into the reclusive enigmatic author marketing strategy. They didn’t seem convinced, but I’ll keep at it.

It’s been a busy day, which is good because I hardly thought about my ‘situation’ at all. Except for the fact that I was going to the bathroom every twenty minutes to check to see if there was anything on my pants. There wasn’t.

I’ve got my bag with me at work, and I’ve taking anything personal out of the flat, and it’s coming with me to Glasgow tonight. Fife is supposed to move his stuff out this weekend, and I don’t trust him to rummage through my shit first. If he moves out at all.

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