So the big news at the house the past couple of months has been the possibility that we have mice. Well, we know for a fact that we had one, because we caught it in a mousetrap and then played rock-paper-scissors to figure out who'd have to carry it to the trashcan.

I lost, incidentally. Stupid rock. Like Robert Downey, Jr., I am tragically drawn to the rock.

Mice are a little like Republicans insofar as they are both really gross and tend to congregate in specific locations (Republicans in suburbia; mice in our kitchen). And frankly I'm terrified. I cannot win with rock, but I cannot choose something other than rock, and so I know that future mouse corpses will fall into my shaky, girlish hands.

There is also some other news here at the house. Shannon got into law school. Dan and Brighid are living happily ever after. Improbably, I got a girlfriend (who is a pretty private person, and therefore will go largely unmentioned here, except to say that her first name is Sarah; and that her social security number may or may not be 736-41-5429).

Also I've accepted a 2-book deal from the nice folks at Dutton. What happened is that I visited my editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel, in New York a while back. (I will now pretend to be a blogger and namedrop. I also saw the lovely Lindsay Robertson and the also lovely Whitney Pastorek.)

So Julie Strauss-Gabel, whose name I like using in its entirety, took me out to sushi and asked, "Are you working on a second book?"

And I said, "Yes. It's called An Abundance of Katherines."

And she said, "Want a contract for it?"

And I said, "HELL YEAH!"

And then Julie Strauss-Gabel said, "Great!" because I guess somehow she had this notion in her head that maybe I wouldn't want a book contract.

It was around this time that I ran to the bathroom and threw up raw salmon, because that's what I do when something great happens to me. I vomit.

A couple weeks later, in the midst of contract negotiations, Julie called me and asked, "Do you also want the contract to maybe include another book?"

At this point, it became necessary to inform Julie Strauss-Gabel that I have barely started the second book, and that I don't even have an idea for a third one. Ooh, I just thought of a premise. A professional wrestler is murdered and then tells his story from a vaguely heaven-like place. It will be called The Lovely Bonecrusher.)

Despite such unpromising puns, it turns out that Dutton wants my third book anyway.

I've waited until everything was finalish to mention it here, but I'm really thrilled--a little bit overwhelmed and embarrassed by my luck and Julie's faith in me, but mostly I'm so excited that I could just hurl all over myself.