I've had a lovely morning. Spent those extra hours with my daughter since she missed first period again. At this point, I'm just being calm. Making the most of the time. We sat down together and went through her social studies chapters on The Civil War. At least she's bright and learns quickly. Just one more day --ONE MORE DAY!! -- and then vacation starts and we get to FINALLY sleep in a bit.
Then I went to a nice yoga class. And now I'm here. Typing away. Actually getting my work week going. I told you that I decided to give up on Mondays and Tuesdays and just start the week on Wednesdays or even Thursdays and then work straight through the weekend. I decided that I actually have more time and energy available on Fridays - Sundays since there is no drop off/pick up or homework to hassle with.
I counted. Yesterday I had to be at a specific place at a specific time to drop off or pick up TEN times between 7:30 am and 3:00 pm. That's right. That is more than once per hour. So now I don't even stress the writing.
Bad news is that I have enough other stuff to do all the time that I think I could probably procrastinate my writing indefinitely and never run out of other things that need my attention. So at some point, I do just have to sit down and get it going, even when the homework and laundry isn't done.
And I know that this is my bad for trying to work in a public setting but geez these ladies near me are bugging me. Thank God they finally just got up and left. I'm in a nice little patio and since all the other tables were full, I said they could share my large one. But I've never seen people shift around in their seats and pound/lean on/lean away from/lean back on a table SOOOO much. My computer keeps dancing around like a jumping bead. I can ignore their conversation, but please, please just hold still. But I know. If I wanted stillness and isolation, I could just stay at home. So I shouldn't complain.:)
Speaking of complaints... I keep asking questions. And I keep getting zero answers. It sort of makes my head hurt. In the absence of a response, I tend to create my own story. And here's the thing. My own narratives tend to be pretty nice. In the stories I tell myself, people are basically happy. They have some sense of resolution and meaning. They aren't just consumed by aching angry bitterness. But I just had the experience of finding out that real life ISN'T like the story I had. The real life guy actually seemed pretty darn angry. To the point where I'm checking my back when I'm out in town now, keeping my eye out for a sea-green Corolla. In fact, a friend honked at me when I walked out of yoga and I just froze in caution.
At least it's nice to be free. I do keep realizing how nice it is not to feel warded away from basic life. I'm enjoying being in the parks again, especially with the nicer weather. Anyway, best to all on this sunny Thursday.