I fell asleep sitting up and had three separate dreams before Sophie came and hit me with a book.
I have been battling crab grass. My whole body hurts, and I am dressed in droopy, dirty clothes. My feet are perpetually dusty-feeling. But I must get all these small plants I ordered in the ground soon. I must!
This is Spring, ladies and gentlemen.
I think writers everywhere are going through the same thing, more or less. Spring has come and we suddenly awaken from our winter snooze. It was fun hibernating in front of our computers, lazily squirting out novel pages. But now Spring is here.
We are no longer content to sit in front of our computer screens. There's work to be done outside. And even if we have no work outside, nobody wants to stay inside very long. Our children are escaping out the front door, and we must go with them!
And yet, conference season cometh. It is nearly upon us.
So, we wait till dark and patter away at the keys, madly trying to polish up that WiP in time. We take blog holidays in a desperate attempt to catch up. Our dirty dishes sit idly by the sink. Our laundry piles nearly reach the ceiling. We know it won't be long before they topple and bury us.
Spring for a writer is a mad, mad season.
That, my friends, is why I sometimes fall asleep sitting up.