So, I’ve got a few days off. And like yesterday, I’m doing a good job filling up the time. Today, after I drop daughter off, I plan to go for a quick run, then tour another school, drop off more stuff at a consignment shop, get a massage, walk the dogs, the pick up the kid so we can go on a field trip to Ikea. Somewhere in there, I hope to write, if only for a few minutes.
Why is it so stinking hard to write? Not just to find the time, but to actually sit down and put pen to paper and fingers to keyboard. I have no problem getting myself to vacuum or workout or curl up with a book, but to actually do the act of writing? That’s horrifying. Yet, the list of what I want to write keeps growing. Is all that material just incubating? Waiting until the timing is right to slide down my shoulders, into my fingers and onto the page?
I sure hope so. Because there ain’t a whole lot of writing going on in these parts right now.
At least I wrote this.
PS: Look who’s back after 10 days at Grandma & Grandpas. They were so thrilled to see each other. Above they’re even holding paws!
PSS: THis photo is deceiving. He weighs only 15 lbs, she’s probably over 50.