At the desk, 7:58 a.m.
I'm not actually sure how it happened. But today I can tell you with 100% certainty that I'm overwhelmed. In fact, I've been overwhelmed all week.
On Monday, I quit a bunch of email lists. When they asked why I was leaving, I had no answer. None. I simply want a little relief.
On Tuesday, I grumped through lunch with my friend Michael.
On Wednesday, I found a Firefox plugin (LeechBlock) to block my email, social media, and various sites.
And I'm still overwhelmed.
I would guess that it's a common phenomena for most authors in the modern world. For me, when I write, I have to take a journey to where the story happens then strive to transcribe in detail all that's happened. In the last few weeks, I've been immersed in both in writing and in business stuff. (Have you noticed our store imploded?)
My husband thinks it's my back. In striving to get better, we're 'waking up' the nerves in the messed of areas of my back. This means I'm in almost constant pain. I'm also worried. I've been in PT for months now and I seem to just keep getting worse. Will I finally have to bite the bullet and get surgery? No one around me wants that to happen, including me. How do I make that decision? When will I know what is the right answer for me?
I think it's the Ides of Spring. Cousins to the Ides of March, the Ides of Spring bring a kind of restless wonder. Our roses are amazing this year. The garden growing so well I'm trying to off load Kale. The lawn mowers of the lawn service employed by the Jones's are going (right at this minute) full blast. Crime is up in my little Mayberry-ian neighborhood with drug dealers on one corner and bikes stolen from garages on another block.
I'm sure I'll work it out. By tomorrow, I probably won't remember what I was overwhelmed about. In the meantime, I'm going to attempt to dive in to the worlds that beacon me.
So if you don't hear from me, I'm either writing or sitting in the backyard watching the garden grow or...