Thought so.
The problem with writing a DITL post as a mildly honest person is that you don't want to write about a great day, because then you'd have to explain that every day isn't great and I'm not being a Pinterest Mom, I promise.
But then, you don't really want to write about the day after someone in the house got a vasectomy, because A, he probably doesn't want the whole internet to know about it, and B, you were pretty testy what with the husband flat on his back and the children trying to climb on him and the melting eyeball temperatures and the fact that you planned your daughter's fifth birthday party for the same day and there might have been a little bit of yelling when your son got out of bed thirteen times and ended up staying up an hour past his bedtime when all you wanted to do was sit down and drink a (large, cold) gin and tonic.
So not that day.
You think you could possibly write about the day your first paid writing gig got published (because that other time, the time with the marble post, when BlogHer emailed you and said they wanted to syndicate it and pay you fifty bucks for it? That was Leslie's post. But you weren't bitter or anything), but that was the same day that someone got a vasectomy, and you got so many emails from various people who read the post and were thinking about hiring you, and the one phone call you actually took live because the kids were occupied came at the exact same time that the hospital was trying to phone you that someone just got into the recovery room and you can come and pick him up anytime and that same someone ended up waiting alone at the hospital for an extra twenty minutes to be picked up and you realized that you were a horrible, horrible wife.
The rest of that day's details leaked out of your ears. Plus, it kind of sounds braggy and awful at the same time, which means it's out of contention.
Instead, exhausted, and with real work to do but a still-burning desire to write something Not About Money, you write a post about why you can't write a post, and then you put up a picture of your daughter playing in the sprinkler.
Just this once, everybody lives!*
*And now you know my favourite Dr. Who episode.
