Like a stubborn child, I stared down the dirty laundry collecting in the closet.
I refused to pick up a duster or mop, and I pretended not to notice the yard work pleading for my attention.
Instead, I made up my mind to move ahead with my WIP. No matter what.
I thought about it day and night. I ate my meals in front of my laptop and I stayed up late into the night, determined to get something down. Early every morning I was right back at work again.
I turned down a luncheon date with a friend and turned off the TV so I could work. Six, eight, ten hours a day.
One minute I loved what I wrote, the next moment I hated it. Optimism alternated with despair. I cut and pasted, saved and deleted until my hands started to cramp up.
I tried to blame the weather. The full moon. The gremlins.
Did I mention paranoia?
Also, as you probably know, I have dogs...
...so I had to take them out every so often. And when I did, I had to pick up some of the ten million twigs and branches that came down over the winter. There was a pile of tanbark in front of the house I had to spread. And--oh, look! A squirrel!
See what I mean?
But this week will be different. Next weekend I'll be in beautiful midtown Manhattan for a very special wedding and the following weekend is our son's doctoral graduation. This week I'll have to fight the urge to write. I'll be obsessing over what I'm going to wear!