I spuddle.

Once again I’ve hit a wall.   Not literally.   If I literally hit a wall, I’d probably break — at a minimum — all the bones in my hand.   I’m “lucky” like that.   Not that I have brittle bones, but that I have bad luck.   Not REALLY BAD LUCK, like, you know, a fatal disease, but just marginally comical bad luck, like unecessarily itchy legs at ALL TIMES and a skin condition that makes me look like I do a lot of spring skiing in the Alps with RayBans on.    So it goes.   But what I was saying was that I’ve hit a wall and that’s NOT EVEN THE RIGHT METAPHOR but I’m too lazy to change it.

The thing is that suddenly I’m really really REALLY busy.   The Bun has started school and that comes with it an array of activities for The Birdy, our days have changed entirely from free-floating amorphous blobs of empty, luxurious time to structured, MUST BE ON TIME, confining, rigid schedules.   Oh, I hate schedules.   And yet something about HAVING a schedule has forced me to parcel up my time-for-creativity into little segments and as a result, I’ve been almost — dare I say — EXTRA creative.   I’m working on no less than five books simultaneously — two are finished, but I’m manically self-editing them to make them perfect for their respective submission spots.   One is four pages in,  one is 100 pages in, one is 50 pages in.    I’m really loving all of them and I’m so happy right now with this enormous roster of characters taking up the time and space in my head that is normally reserved for worrying about why, when I think about it, I can’t really breathe all the way in OR all the way out, and hey, wait a minute, AM I DYING?

My point, and I do have one, is that I’m trying to find a balance between things I HAVE TO DO and things I want to do because they are fun.  This blog?  Is fun.   I want to do it.   I’m going to continue to do it.   But if I’m missing for days or even weeks at a time,  do not call the police because you assume the neighbours cats have eaten me.   It is not the case.   I am just throwing words down on manuscripts like a sushi chef throws…er, knives?  I don’t know what sushi chefs throw.   I’m allergic to fish.   I do not eat sushi.

All this frantic activity, writing-wise, has a cost.   That cost is the following five things:

1.  My house is filthy.   When we are home in the afternoon (which thankfully is rare) AND it is sunny, the sun illuminates what looks like lakes and rivers of dust and grime.   It’s truly disgusting.   But when I have time, like when the kids are asleep or with the sitter, I am writing.   I am not cleaning.   Until these five projects are done, the house can sort of fester.   I mean, as I was typing this, I suddenly got overwhelmed with Dirty House Anxiety (DHA) and actually vacuumed.    But I’m not touching the random piles of items, such as books and magazines, which linger on every surface like a reminder that I’m really well on my way to becoming my mum.

2.  I was going to blog one of the several reality TV shows I watch in the fall but then I got lazy.   Suddenly.   Hit with the lazy stick.   So y’all will have to watch Survivor, ANTM, The Amazing Race, The Apprentice, and Project Runway (OH HOW I LOVE THIS SHOW) all on your own.    But if The Bachelor returns, you know I’m on it.   I’m still sort of obsessed with Crazy Jillian and Gigilo Ed.

3.  These aren’t really confessions but more like a list of crap I don’t have time to do.

4.  I am SO BEHIND on editing pictures that I have over five hundred shots from August that I may never get to.   My mum has shoeboxes full of photos stashed all over her house that one day she will put into albums.   I think we’ve just uncovered the final proof of my earlier hypothesis.   I AM MY MOTHER.

5.  I really really really like giant chunks of peanut butter cups in combination with ice cream.   Coincidentally (and not causally),  I have gained six pounds.   I lost two by not eating the ice cream for several days, but then I ate a bunch more.    I swore I would never become one of those people who knows their weight fluctuations within a half pound on a 24-hour basis (i.e. my mum) but hey, guess what?   I put batteries in the scale.  So now every time I sit down to watch reality TV with a giant dish of President’s Choice Chunky Peanut Butter Ice Cream on my lap, I can hate myself for it, just a little.

6.   My hair has not been cut or coloured in so long, I can barely remember what it’s supposed to look like.  Is this what they mean by “let yourself go”?   Oh wells.

I said five and I gave you six!   Six things!   That’s a bonus.   And now that I’ve said I’m posting less, probably everything in my life will suddenly become blogworthy and I’ll be blogging EVERY SINGLE DAY.   Watch this space.    Seriously, watch it.   Or else.   I mean, I know where you live.   Maybe.

Filed under: Five Thing Friday