“I’ll get so much done this weekend.”
Some day, I will acknowledge to myself what an incredible lie that statement is. I never get as much done on the weekends as I’d like, or plan. Never. I always have incredible reasons, excuses and rationalizations for not achieving what I plan during the week. This weekend was actually a stellar example of how my excuses, combined with happenstance and some serious bad luck all came together to keep me from getting any writing done whatsoever. It began thusly:
I was able to finish up some critical new papers that various companies needed in order to continue to make my life difficult. Alex and I then ran some errands that were necessary (paying the storage unit, dropping off dry cleaning, etc.) nice and early in the day. There would be plenty of time to write that afternoon! In celebration, Alex and I went to the outlet mall nearby to get me some new pants for work (we’ve been eating badly lately, I’m not fitting comfortably in some of my more slender outfits.) It wasn’t in the plan, but hey, it wouldn’t take long. On the way, we blew out a tire. It didn’t delay us much, and we had the excitement of me watching the highway to make sure no one would hit Alex while he changed the tire, but it did keep me from buying that lovely soft sweater that cost about as much as a tire.
On the way home, I started feeling a little under the weather. My head felt big and my throat hurt from some nasty drainage. “Better relax,” I thought. “You’re heading to the Pittsburgh Renaissance Faire tomorrow; everyone’s been looking forward to it (especially Alex) so you should be healthy. R has rehearsal at 4pm, so you’ll be leaving early. You can write when you get back.” So, I took some Wal-dryl (yep, cheap benedryl) and passed out for a good 12 hours.
The next morning I felt worse. I made it to the Ren Faire and its 90 degree heat. “No problem, just have a strawberry ice and your throat will be soothed and you’ll be fine” said the stupid voice in my head. While I had as much fun as I could, and the ice was indeed tasty, it did not help matters. I got home an immediately went to sleep for an hour and a half. K made a lovely dinner for us, Alex and I cleaned up the dishes, took the dogs out, and went to bed.
Where the heck did my weekend go?
Admittedly, the illness bit did give me the excuse to sleep away a good deal of my time. But let me tell you, I can always find a good excuse to not sit down and write. Why? I honestly don’t know. I like to write. I think I’m getting better at it. I suppose it’s the old trap of if I don’t do it, no one will criticize me when they see it. I’m not reaching for compliments here; it wouldn’t help even if you gave one.
I just have to keep telling myself that I finished a book once, I can do it again.
Whoops! Looks like I have to take the dogs out.
