I thought we had an agreement.
I selected you - over a vast number of eligible muse avatars - in hopes you would shepherd my children into adult hood. You promised to guide them, and provide all with equal inspiration. You said you'd infuse each with their own spark of Genius.
And of course, I assumed you'd take on the role of "stay-at-home-muse" - like Tootsie, which I've been feeding you all week - but I came home after critique group Tuesday night and the dishes remained untouched, the vacuum cleaner in the full upright and idle position, and every bed in the house unmade.
Now, I'm not normally the type to air anyone's dirty laundry into the giant blogosphere (and especially not my own) but I'm certain you've not upheld your end of the bargain. I can see by the sheer number of times you've been on the cover of tabloids this week that you've not been focused on my children, but perhaps on reconnecting with your ex?
Are these trysts the reason Jagger is spiraling into depression, and Cait is still wandering aimlessly around Milan looking for her Father? Just yesterday, Karma told me she had to take the bus - the bus! - to school. Aeryn has not yet completed her "shop" project, and I think she's sleeping around. And don't even get me started about Avery, whose shoe fetish has gotten her into trouble this week. BIG trouble.
It's as though you've allowed all of my children to run amuck, and now, as I stare at the butt end of another unproductive week, I am reconsidering my selection criteria.
Oh, did you forget you can be replaced?
Perhaps you'd be interested in checking out the growing list of candidates here.
You'd be wise to not dismiss them so easily, Mr. Muse. My dear friend has impeccable taste - in fact, the loyal (and quite hunky) Daniel "Bond" Craig has been her internal editor avatar for some time. The list compiled by her friends indicates she surrounds herself with like-minded peers.
But I'm feeling generous this morning and have decided to give you another chance. You have two days - 48 hours in which to redeem yourself as father of the year.
I expect great things from you Mr. Muse.