Will I have a massive headache until the day after I move? ‘Cause it’s showing no signs of relenting its grip on my brain.

I told the P-I-C, Kwana, that I would rather write another book than write a synopsis. And it’s true.

I realized that before I send out the three chapters of Road To Passion, I have to write a synopsis for it. I HATE them with a fervent passion usually reserved for A-Ha, Frankie Valli, mussels, Crocs, Uggs, toe socks, dog-eared pages and Tom Cruise.

Gak. The P-I-C says she wants it by tomorrow. This is why I love my friends.

Megan

I have one child. My choice, that’s fine.

We have one steady paycheck. Our choice, that’s fine, and we deal.

It doesn’t mean I CHOOSE to exchange with your kids (notice the plural), where you spend ten bucks on my kid’s toy and you tell me to get your kids gifts upwards of $15 each. Yes. I am cheap. But I am also very fair.

Grrr. Problem is, this is a good friend who will probably be affronted by my pointing this out. So I have to suck it up and buy the damn toys.

But I’m not happy about it.

I am being such a whiner lately.

Snap out of it!

I need someone to come over and kick me in the ass. So, barring that (and no, Goedi, please do not volunteer!), can you suggest a virtual kick in the ass?

Many thanks, dotcomrades.

“You can go running first, if you want.”

So for a variety of reasons I am having a hard time staying motivated to get back on the stick, or the keyboard, and start writing again. Which means things won’t happen, because I haven’t done it, but I don’t want to do it because things aren’t happening.
I have my mom-lit to revise the ending of–yet again–and I do not want to [cue me stomping my feet and tossing my hair. Never cute even on a four year-old, but on a 43-y.o.? Pas de tout.]
I have Road to Passion to finish. I like this story a lot, but I have to print it all out, which means dragging the laptop out and balancing it on my knees while I figure out which version is the right one and then sorting the pages and feeding the printer and–ugh.
I have a romantica short story I’d like to start, but of course the previous two projects have prior claim.
I have no time because Back-to-School means Back-to-Normal-Brooklyn life, which requires laundry, grocery shopping, etc. Plus miscellaneous running around, which always takes longer.
Feh.
What can possible inspire me?

Oh, all right then. I’ll get back to work.

For all I complain and moan (oh, yes, I do; you can’t deny it. Not that you have.), I am WIDE AWAKE AT 12:00am. WIDE. awake. Everyone else–that is, the As Exhausted But Complains Less Spouse and the ‘I-Can’t-Get-To-Sleep-Because-I-Miss-You-Too-Much-Mommy’ (aw!) Son is snoozing.

Me? Awake. And it stinks.

Tomorrow the Son goes to visit relatives, I have a few days to myself. Must edit some stuff, must write some other stuff, must do all sorts of errands. MUST GET SOME SLEEP!

Gah, this stinks.

Last night, the Super-Smart Lawyer came over for a bland dinner (my fault) and a blander version of Beau Brummell, starring James Purefoy (BBC’s fault). Man, it was dull.

But the S-S L brought over a kicking bottle of Riesling, and we always have a good time hanging out, so it was fun night, at least. And although doing creative writing has been hard, I plotted out the rest of my current chapter while running. That way I could focus on something other than ‘when is this going to stop, how long do I have to go, why is everyone faster than me?‘

And if I can just find time to write inbetween planning house renovation, housecleaning, food prep, food shopping, laundry, the freelance job, hanging with the Son, exercising, getting my hair cut (today!), transcribing the Hard-Working Spouse’s freelance interviews, spending some time with the H-W S when he’s not H-Wing, and of course blog-hopping, the occasional necessary nap and talking on the phone to friends, it’d be grand.

Whine, whine. Aren’t you happy I’m not posting as much as I usually do? Honestly, inside my head it’s a constant rotating list of things I haven’t done/things I should do/things I got finished.

Megan

This morning, I meant to go to the gym, do freelance work, get cracking on writing, maybe have a healthful salad for lunch. The reality? Not so much of that. And I lost an hour’s worth of freelance work because I am an idiot. And then laundry, feh. Hate doing the laundry. Grumble.

This Sunday, the Riskies are running an interview with Loretta Chase, and her book just arrived in an Amazon package, so life is not all bad. Whew.

Megan

*Apologies to Prince Spaghetti