One of the rules of blogging is that you must keep up with your posts.
So much for that -- I got in over my head and like any intelligent person, threw up my hands and called for a respite. I told my husband we were going to Pennsylania. He was surprised, but amenable, and we threw some things in a suitcase and began the 12-hour trip for a five-day visit with my sister.
The advantage was that there was no way I could keep up with my on-line class, my blog, my writing, or my (admittedly at-home) job. I didn't bring my laptop. I didn't even bring a notebook. I squelched my guilty conscience and had a great time.
Of course, when I came back, there was that backlog of work to be done. I think I have finally come to the end of the to-do list, but things keep getting added, so I am resigned that I will never quite finish.
I do have some priorities, though. And I am working through them. Job, yes, for the money comes in handy until I can earn enough from writing to quit. Oh wait, my job is writing. I meant writing books, not work-for-hire articles.
So I am simultaneously preparing my first book for self-publication, the contract having run out, and editing my fifth in preparation for sending it forth to find its fortune. Books two and three languish in that limbo known as "send the ms. and we'll look at it."
I also facilitate (teach) a class once a week so that takes some preparation. I am secretary of four organizations. I do a newsletter for a cancer support group. And, I am trying to market my novel.
Something obviously has to give. I refuse to stop writing and I can't easily get out of the other commitments, so the answer is: housework.
I may just write a book about how you can have your house look presentable by cleaning a half hour a day. Just don't look under the beds or in the closets.