Mrs. Doodlerumpf

What a week. It's flying by, but then again, could the weekend get here already?!

No matter. Today was a major break-through day. No, I still don't know how to cleverly add much-needed closets to Freeman House's floor plan without destroying the original layout. And I have no idea why the idiotic American public voted Brandon off Rockstar INXS. But, it's okay. The revelation today was much, much bigger than that.

It had to do with Mrs. Doodlerumpf. See, I'm writing a children's book. It's been a ton of fun already, but I had been struggling to come up with the perfect name for an old lady, next door neighbor character. So... I'm at work today, flipping through 7,000 deed and mineral conveyances, and it hits me. Like a flood. Doodlerumpf.

Doodlerumpf. That's her name. Mrs. Doodlerumpf.

I stopped, and thought, surely I must have read that name here somewhere. There's no way I just randomly pulled that out of the air.

But no, I went back and checked. No Doodlerumpfs anywhere in those deeds. I even checked the courthouse computer to make sure. No Doodlerumpfs.

One question: how.... what in the.....???

I think I must be crazy. That's all it can be.

So I came home from the day that refused to end and fired up the good ole Gilmore Girl DVDs. And, wouldn't you know it, the episode made mention of Emily Dickinson, the ingenious recluse poet who happens to be my favorite of all time.

I'd forgotten that she lived out her life as a spinster in an obscure place with relatively little contact with the outside world. And yet, how brilliantly she captured life. And nature. And the personal struggle with concepts like death and faith.

It got me thinking, anyway. Maybe living out my life as a spinster in an obscure place has inspired an Emily Dickinson-type geniousosity (I know, not a word) that will propel me into literary greatness.

Or, maybe not.

Oh well.

At least I finally have Mrs. Doodlerumpf. And that, my friends, is enough for today.