I just have to say, it’s depressing to finally sit down to catch up on my reading with a head full of thing I want to write about, only to discover half a dozen people have already written about what I was going to write about, and said pretty much what I was going to say.
Then I start thinking, “Well, what’s the point?”
Problem is, the “stuff” in my “head full of stuff I want to write about” has already been there for more than a week, and I’ve only managed to find scavenge the time to write about one or two things. Plus there’s there’s a couple of thing I started writing about that kinda fall into the category mentioned above. So, do I leavea them unfinished, or file them under “redundant” like the rest.
My mornings are entirely packed. I can’t read or write anything before at least noon. Usually later. By then, my body starts informing me that I have to eat. That’s closer to 1:30 PM. I manage to get and eat lunch, and return to my desk around 3:00 PM. Then it’s back to my usual routine in preparation for the next day’s routine.
And then it’s time to go home. If I’ve been unwise enough to start writing something that late, I either have to stop or be late getting home.
Either way I have to go home. Then it’s family time. Then it’s dinner time. Then it’s playtime with the kids. Then it’s bedtime; which includes teeth-brushing time, story time, and lullaby time or rocking time, depending on which kid you’ve got. Then it’s dishwasher loading time, or laundry folding time or, some other task that’s already been waiting too long.
Then I’m exhausted.
Then it’s my time.
Then I can either write or get ahead on the next day’s routine, if I can think clearly.
Then I start nodding off at my computer.
Then it’s time to go to bed.
Then it’s time to get up, get showered and dressed.
Then it’s time to get Parker’s breakfast and coach him to get dressed.
Then it’s time to work on the day’s routine.
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Then it’s time to put Parker on the schoolbus.
Then it’s time to catch my bus.
Then it’s time to get on the train.
Then it’s time to either get 20 minutes more done on the day’s routine and fool myself into thinking it will by me time to write later in the day. Or I can attempt to catch upon reading or writing during the 20 minutes or so I’m on the train. That’s If I can get a seat.
By then, I’m pretty much back to wear I started.
Looking at it all in black and white, it seems very busy. It seems like I’m doing a lot.
But it feels like I spend most of my time not doing it. Whatever “it” is.