Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Finding time
I finished seeing patients at 4:30, then popped over to St. Mammon to see a patient and leave a note. By 5:20, I’m home — far earlier than usual, so I thought for sure I’d get some worthwhile editing in this evening, or at least a big chunk of blogging time.
(Look at that! A built-in More tag. I love WordPress.)
I popped a russet in the oven for Jake, a yam for Karen, and drove down to our town’s Ubermarket, Fred Meyer, to pick up dinner. Steak for the boy & wife, tilapia and oysters for me since I’m trying to eat more fish.
Aw hell, now that I’m here, I might as well do some grocery shopping.
Twenty minutes later, I emptied out my basket for the checker, only to discover they couldn’t run credit cards — their computers were down all throughout the system.
I grumbled my way across the street, hurried through Ray’s (which I like better, but they didn’t have the goodies my son wanted), hopped back into the car, and tried to gas her up. Sorry-no-credit-cards once again. WTF? By now, I was wondering about those electronic terrorists Richard Clarke keeps warning us about. But the next gas station took my plastic.
Bottom line, by the time I finished making dinner, it was after 7:00. I had just enough time to change the theme on Balls and Walnuts before The Daily Show started. And of course I had to watch Stephen Colbert.
9:00.
The kitchen was a mess. As much as I would like the cats to clean up, they have a bad habit of picking and choosing which dishes to tongue-scrub. Oh, and since I like to force the issue when it comes to inanimate objects, I had to fix the dishwasher, too.
9:34, I’m finally at the computer, and I’m asking myself: how the hell did I ever get through NaNoWriMo? How did I manage to finish my WiP? How will I ever finish editing my WiP?
And I still need to type up Jake’s homework for tomorrow.
And shower, and shave.
Karen claims that doctors live to complain. Is that true for writers, too?
It’s 9:59.
D.
I think humans live to complain. It’s a species thing.
Squeezing writing time in takes effort and commitment. And the flexibility, because some days it just won’t happen. Life happens. And to quote Stephen King, life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.
I just shrug off the days when I can’t get anything done and take maximum advantage of good days. It evens out!