1. When your husband comes upstairs to tell you that your washing machine is dead, Jim, do not pass go, do not collect $100, go straight to bed and pull the covers over your head. Say, "Fuck this!" Go to sleep.
2. The next day, try to keep both the kids in the van and the characters of your novel (all of which are vying for your attention loudly) at a dull roar so that you can drive without running the lot of you into a telephone pole.
3. Play Judy Garland. Cry over your dead mother.
4. Get down on your knees. Thank Jesus for Sesame Street. Use it to hypnotize child #3. Use this time to make several calls that will hopefully ensure continued financial stability.
5. Make like Agatha Christie, who said that "The best time to plan a book is while you're doing the dishes." Clean your kitchen.
6. Put baby down for a nap. Check all of your internet haunts. See that Facebook has prompted you to send a message to your mother. Write a message to your mother. Cry again.
7. Open your word document and underscore a line beneath the crap that you wrote yesterday. Close your eyes and try to remember what your new character was telling you this morning in the van. Don't argue when he tells you that he dresses like eurotrash and carries a back pack which sports a button that says, "Go Green!"