Well, it’s happened. I actually have a responsibility that will take up quite a bit of my writing time. And I actually get paid to do it. Yes, it’s writing. No, it isn’t creative — well, not creative writing. The writing is for a project that is very creative, and extremely worthwhile.
So much for languishing in Bloggsville whenever I want for as long as I wish.
Now I have to figure out how I’m going to manage writing here, writing for submission, and writing for the project. Okay, reverse the order on that list, and that’s the frame of mind I need to be in.
I know there are most likely people out there who can manage this — in fact, much more — and I would have been able to as well about this time last year. But I know myself. And when I jump off the treadmill, it’s quite difficult for me to jump back on while it’s running at a good clip.
So schedule it is. Goodness knows I’m good at that. I scheduled every minute of every day for most of every year for nearly two decades. I still shudder with the horror of it all.
Regardless, I will recommit to the habit of each night, doing my schedule for the next day. It’s a compromise, considering that my life was scheduled from a yearly, monthly, and weekly perspective before. I’m not breaking out my planner. Yet. But I may have to. Ugh. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.
But I can’t neglect you. It would keep me awake at night, wondering about how you’re doing, and imagining what you thought about why I’d abandoned you.
So don’t give up on me. Not just yet.
It’s all for a good cause. I’ll tell you about it later…
Time is money.
p.s. The woman across the street is speaking very loudly to her gardener about making the hole for her lemon tree deeper so the water can run into it. He has an accent and his English is very intelligible, but broken. She must think that if she yells her directives as if he is deaf, he will understand her better. And the man must be quite patient, tolerating such a client.Â He’s already completed the task, and the woman is now praising him with the tone a Kindergarten teacher uses on a 5-year-old who has remembered to wash his hands after exiting the restroom. I’d pay money to know what he’s thinking about her right now. Who the hell came up with the idea of “ignorance is bliss?” Jeez.
Okay, now I’m behind. Ugh.
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