Can’t blog. Busy.

NOVEMBER the first – crunch time. It seems everything is happening at once and not the good things, like my book is finally coming out and my first royalty cheque arrives, and I’ve won the lotto.

No, everything such as having to move house on the weekend. Having to start work tomorrow. Having to continue butting my head against the brick wall that has blocked my path to publishing success. Having to keep up with the undoubtedly talented and hardworking masses that are actually ready for NaNoWriMo (why I thought this year would be the year to start it, I don’t know!)

Currently, I’m trying to sort out mobile broadband (because our internet will be out for five to seven days while we relocate) and my work log-in, and pack a house, clean a house with two children underfoot. As Bethenny Frankel would say… “it’s madness”.

But then there’s all the other little things: getting the radiator fixed in the car; getting little hooky-things from a curtain shop since our kids have broken most of the ones left dangling from the loungeroom curtain rod; a new door stop… After that there’s the everyday stuff which doesn’t stop just because we’re busy. Things like we’re out of pears. Or having to remember naptime when I’m busy hauling dead palm fronds around the yard so they can be collected.

As my brother commented yesterday: “It’s not like you to take on too much (scoff)”. And I guess he’s right.  I tend to spread myself thin on a regular basis simply because I don’t want to be left out. I could quit work, but then I’d miss out on knowing tomorrow’s news today. I could not try to write a second novel in one month, but if I don’t then book two may never become the rampant success that I daydream about. I could stay in this house… well, actually, I can’t. That’s a definite must. The owners want it back but I have this overwhelming desire to leave it in such impeccable condition that they rue the day they let such fine tenants out of their clutches!

Of course the distinction between my desire and the reality is frightening. Ever tried to clean a glass sliding door while your youngest is screaming on the other side? Being able to see you doesn’t matter if they can’t physically climb up your leg and onto your hip, so they scream and wipe spittle and snot on the side you’d just cleaned. Sigh.

(Day two of writing this blog – yes, it’s taken me this long to write… not much at all. NaNoWriMo is going to go off at this rate!!).

I’m still trying to sort out my work log-on (and I start work in an hour and half!), am meant to put the kids down for a sleep right now, but have to wait for my new laptop to download something so I can work on it (but it’s been at 75% for the past 15 minutes so I’m not holding high hopes). Then I have to call the IT people back. IT people are lovely, but their phone manners can be a bit of a short-coming. I can never seem to hear this guy who obviously hasn’t cottoned on that the strange noise in the background is my son riding plastic tyres over tiles or my daughter trying to talk into the phone.

There are pluses (plusses?!) though: the car is fixed, ditto the curtains and the door stop.

And my thwarted plans to exhaust the kids at the water park this morning (so I could work in relative peace for an hour or so) – because they both were overwhelmed and wanted to leave – no longer matter because it’s so far past their naptime, I know they’ll collapse in a heap as soon as I let them….

Hang on, it’s awful quiet out there… fingers crossed they’ve passed out on the couch! Oh shit, that’s right, I left one sitting in her high chair!


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