I think this will simply a dumping of the annoying contents of my brain which feels clogged up. No real reason. Maybe, like vomiting when my tummy feels bad, I’ll feel better for it. You might not.
My works in progress are not progressing as I would like. I feel like I have a log jam in my head. I know where my stories are going, I have ideas, but nothing is flowing. If I get a few hundred words a day out, that’s good. Most of it just sits in my head. Getting moldy like strawberries in my fridge.
For awhile, I had a pretty good writing routine down but that was interrupted by the three week field research gig in May. I thought I’d get my groove back after that. But, no. I thought that planning for the library programs would fit in, but not as nicely as I hoped. Then there was a job application that took me forever. And hanging out with my brother’s kids while he and his wife went away, and then the job interview.
Oh, and let me not fail to mention the many naps. I’m not sure if I’m in hibernation mode because it’s so blasted bright and hot out, or if I upped the laziness dial or if I’m anemic or what. But I want to sleep a lot. Getting out helps. But it doesn’t help that the three other creatures in my house–my hubs and our two cats–sleep all day. Hubs has an excuse–he works nights.
This week I thought I’d be able to start back into a routine (although that word makes me cringe), but Mom went into the hospital again. So on top of the outside concern of what’s wrong now, there’s that inside one of…when? It could be anytime. It could be ten or twenty years.
Maybe I should just give in and watch movies all day. Do a little token house work each morning and work through my Netflix queue, supplementing it with Fassbender films from Amazon or Redbox. Devote a few minutes to Craig’s List and Indeed.com to look for jobs. Give it up and wait for…what?
I thought straightening up the office would help. And cleaning up the clutter on my desk.