November
I have an odd dilemma.
Next week, I'm on vacation.
No cons. No travel. No signings or readings or meetings of any kind.
Of course, it's not actually a vacation. It's not like I'm hopping a plane to go lie on a beach somewhere, sip margaritas and bathe in the sun. Or even to a bed-and-breakfast on a lake where I can work on my laptop in peace and quiet. Too broke for such nonsense.
And I'll still have to haul my ass out of bed at 6:30 in the freaking morning every day. I may be on vacation but the Spawn is not. There is still breakfast to be made, a bus to be caught. There is still homework to be done and errands to be run.
Still, I'm not sure what to do with myself. It's use-it-or-lose-it vacation days, and I'll still have three to burn once this little exercise in self-indulgence is over.
What in heaven's name am I going to do with myself?
Well, it's Nanowrimo. And I do have two freaking manuscripts vying for my attention. J's idea is that I should go off to a coffeehouse each day and slam on the books. Get a metric ton of writing done.
There's also this hazmat site of an apartment. We're making progress, sure, but I could bust my ass on the place all week and see what I can get done. Enough trips to Goodwill and the dumpster and this place might look like adult humans live here, just in time for Christmas.
I've been invited to an all-women's backpacking trip the weekend my vacation starts. I'm a tentative yes on the list right now. I'm thinking about bailing, in part because I don't know anyone going and I'm shy. And in part because it's freaking November and I'm going to freeze to death. J thinks I should go, because I haven't been backpacking in two years and I miss it constantly and he thinks it would be good for me to do it. Either that or he's secretly plotting my death in order to get his hands on my millions. What do you think?
I could bake things. All those experimental recipes I never tried because I didn't have time. Full course meals all week. Om nom nom. I could knock out all the Christmas shopping in a week, if I had any money.
If I had any money I could do one day of utter self-indulgence. Manicure, pedicure, facial and massage. One day out of five wouldn't be excessive, right? That's rather appealing, if I had the money lying around doing nothing.
And then it'll be back to the usual circus. And I must say, it's wearing on me more this year than in years past. Either life is simply getting harder as time goes on, or like the man says, I'm getting too old for this shit.
Next week, I'm on vacation.
No cons. No travel. No signings or readings or meetings of any kind.
Of course, it's not actually a vacation. It's not like I'm hopping a plane to go lie on a beach somewhere, sip margaritas and bathe in the sun. Or even to a bed-and-breakfast on a lake where I can work on my laptop in peace and quiet. Too broke for such nonsense.
And I'll still have to haul my ass out of bed at 6:30 in the freaking morning every day. I may be on vacation but the Spawn is not. There is still breakfast to be made, a bus to be caught. There is still homework to be done and errands to be run.
Still, I'm not sure what to do with myself. It's use-it-or-lose-it vacation days, and I'll still have three to burn once this little exercise in self-indulgence is over.
What in heaven's name am I going to do with myself?
Well, it's Nanowrimo. And I do have two freaking manuscripts vying for my attention. J's idea is that I should go off to a coffeehouse each day and slam on the books. Get a metric ton of writing done.
There's also this hazmat site of an apartment. We're making progress, sure, but I could bust my ass on the place all week and see what I can get done. Enough trips to Goodwill and the dumpster and this place might look like adult humans live here, just in time for Christmas.
I've been invited to an all-women's backpacking trip the weekend my vacation starts. I'm a tentative yes on the list right now. I'm thinking about bailing, in part because I don't know anyone going and I'm shy. And in part because it's freaking November and I'm going to freeze to death. J thinks I should go, because I haven't been backpacking in two years and I miss it constantly and he thinks it would be good for me to do it. Either that or he's secretly plotting my death in order to get his hands on my millions. What do you think?
I could bake things. All those experimental recipes I never tried because I didn't have time. Full course meals all week. Om nom nom. I could knock out all the Christmas shopping in a week, if I had any money.
If I had any money I could do one day of utter self-indulgence. Manicure, pedicure, facial and massage. One day out of five wouldn't be excessive, right? That's rather appealing, if I had the money lying around doing nothing.
And then it'll be back to the usual circus. And I must say, it's wearing on me more this year than in years past. Either life is simply getting harder as time goes on, or like the man says, I'm getting too old for this shit.
We're too old.
ReplyDeleteI say make a schedule. Ship Spawn off to school, put in a couple hours on the apartment, then put in a couple hours on the laptop. Which would still leave you plenty of time to cook.
The backpacking trip might be good for you. You can plan your Christmas shopping and start the layaway for it?
That sounds like a great idea. Go backpacking (you shy? I never thought you were shy), then make up the schedule. Work some on the apartment and some on the book and set aside time to cook and enjoy some new meals.
ReplyDeleteThere you go. Lots to keep you busy on your week off. I do not like use it or lose it. Had to do that with the part time job and still had to work at the full time job, but I did get a lot done in the evenings.