So What Would I Be Doing?

My horoscope was interesting yesterday, it said, and I quote, “… this is a great time to be moving forward on a writing project.” I felt like the star-guru had somehow reached inside my computer and figured out I write. Can they do that? Ah, yeah. Well, who cares, I wrote, a lot.
Today I e-sent, snail-sent, and am building a fire to smoke-signal my way to continued publication. I have so many projects percolating and plates spinning in the air that I wonder, what would I be doing if I didn’t write?
Laundry.
If I didn’t spend my evenings at the keyboard where would I be?
On the couch watching my husband have his nightly affair with Judge Judy. (Maybe I should play dress-up in a black robe and a little white lace collar.)
If my head didn’t continually spin with plots, characters and words counts what would I be thinking about?
The bills that are due.
First thing in the morning, if I didn’t figure out how I’m going to fit writing in that day, what would I be figuring out?
How to get to work on time.
At night just before I fall asleep the last thing on my mind is where I’m at in a story and where I should be, so if I weren’t musing what would I be doing?
Praying.
Ah, ha. That’s it.
All the other moments when the actual thinking of writing, and doing of writing, is somehow pushed to second place, what will I be doing?
Praying and promising God…just let this novel be the one and I’ll become a nun. I already have the black robe and the white collar, oh wait…I’m not Catholic.
Amen

To Sweep or Not To Sweep

I have a weekend, this weekend, that is a two day vacation from entertaining. In the last six months I have hosted many, many, more many, and even more, many, holiday, family, friend, happy, sad, joyous and really joyous gatherings ranging from twenty to eighty-five people in my home. In all cases I did most, if not all the cooking, except for desserts. I don’t make desserts I just eat ‘em.

That I am tired of keeping the bathrooms spotless is like saying, can’t I just go one day without a shower. Sweeping up the tumble weeds of dog hair has become a chore so heinous that I am ready to shave the dog. Thank God Harley is housebroken or I’d have to cork his…eww…not really.

Anyway, I’m sleeping in tomorrow. I’m not sweeping, vacuuming, scrubbing, cooking or showering…eww…not really.

I’ll sweep, I can’t stand the dog hair.