I wrote this and it seems to ramble but please stick with me.
I’m sitting outside at “Squeak”, a soda shop by our branch library. It is a beautiful day, not too hot, not too cool. It’s 11:30, lunch time and people are going into “Salsa Brava” for lunch, the smells are delicious.
My husband is at work, yeah God, after over a year of unemployment. My daughter and son-in-law were in for a brief visit on their way to a much needed month long vacation in Australia. They have just sold their business and have wonderful, but scary choices in front of them. We are dog sitting while they are on their trip. Otis is a 150 pound black Great Dane. He is a sweetie and he is getting along great with our golden retriever, Sammy.
Everything seems to be right with the world.
But…
I am having feelings of guilt as I sit here. I should be home so I can finish washing sheets and making beds, and vacuuming the double amount of dog hair accumulating along the walls and in the corners. There must be something that can be made with dog-hair. It seems such a waste, the dogs produce it, drop it as a gift to us and we sweep it up and throw it away. I sure am glad God doesn’t do that with the gifts I bring to him.
Sitting here I am doing what I love, writing. I need to have more respect for my writing, treating it as my job, setting work hours and sticking to them. Why does that seem so hard to do when I am at home? No one is there, except the dogs, so I have a quiet atmosphere and comfy furniture. Maybe it’s the laundry, cleaning, food prep, cleaning up the dog hair, etc, that is always calling to me. If I am at home shouldn’t I be taking care of these things?
I find it easier to work at locations other than my home. The rub is when I sneak off to a coffee shop to write I feel guilty. Like, why do I need to go somewhere else to write, I have a nice office at home. Ugh!
When I am writing I feel so good I don’t want to leave that spot. I am at peace in part of me and at war in another part.
Any other writers struggle with this? I am open for input, help please.
Well it is time to leave this spot, go to the grocery store, go home and make those beds, and vacuum floors. Then a little later it is off to get gas, make a couple of stops before picking up my granddaughter from day care, take her to her home until her mom or dad get home from work. When I get home it will be around 6pm, time to fix dinner and get ready for Tuesday, another full day planned, leaving the house at 6am and getting home around 6pm. Sigh.
I’m sitting outside at “Squeak”, a soda shop by our branch library. It is a beautiful day, not too hot, not too cool. It’s 11:30, lunch time and people are going into “Salsa Brava” for lunch, the smells are delicious.
My husband is at work, yeah God, after over a year of unemployment. My daughter and son-in-law were in for a brief visit on their way to a much needed month long vacation in Australia. They have just sold their business and have wonderful, but scary choices in front of them. We are dog sitting while they are on their trip. Otis is a 150 pound black Great Dane. He is a sweetie and he is getting along great with our golden retriever, Sammy.
Everything seems to be right with the world.
But…
I am having feelings of guilt as I sit here. I should be home so I can finish washing sheets and making beds, and vacuuming the double amount of dog hair accumulating along the walls and in the corners. There must be something that can be made with dog-hair. It seems such a waste, the dogs produce it, drop it as a gift to us and we sweep it up and throw it away. I sure am glad God doesn’t do that with the gifts I bring to him.
Sitting here I am doing what I love, writing. I need to have more respect for my writing, treating it as my job, setting work hours and sticking to them. Why does that seem so hard to do when I am at home? No one is there, except the dogs, so I have a quiet atmosphere and comfy furniture. Maybe it’s the laundry, cleaning, food prep, cleaning up the dog hair, etc, that is always calling to me. If I am at home shouldn’t I be taking care of these things?
I find it easier to work at locations other than my home. The rub is when I sneak off to a coffee shop to write I feel guilty. Like, why do I need to go somewhere else to write, I have a nice office at home. Ugh!
When I am writing I feel so good I don’t want to leave that spot. I am at peace in part of me and at war in another part.
Any other writers struggle with this? I am open for input, help please.
Well it is time to leave this spot, go to the grocery store, go home and make those beds, and vacuum floors. Then a little later it is off to get gas, make a couple of stops before picking up my granddaughter from day care, take her to her home until her mom or dad get home from work. When I get home it will be around 6pm, time to fix dinner and get ready for Tuesday, another full day planned, leaving the house at 6am and getting home around 6pm. Sigh.
