I have the midsummer blahs. Even though it’s not midsummer, whether one calculates by the sun (which makes midsummer June 21 or so), or by dividing in half the number of days off between the end of school and the beginning of school in the fall. Either way, we’re closer to the end than to the beginning of summer. I don’t know whether that makes me nostalgic, desperate or just tired. Maybe all three.
Anyway, we’ve gone up to Dallas for a birthday party, we’re home again, and I’m having a whole lot of trouble getting motivated to Do Anything. Alas.
It’s not just the writing that’s been left gasping by the wayside. Pretty much everything else is too. Exercise, cooking, shopping for groceries–I just want to be a slug and read, or maybe sleep. Sigh. Gradually, I am forcing myself to get things done. I went to the grocery store yesterday. I’ve folded most all the laundry (except for what is still in the dryer, and the fella doesn’t really need his underwear that bad–he has more). I do go outside and comb the granddog. (She has short pit-bull fur, but likes to be combed, cause it scratches her itches.) But she will let me sit on the glider and read while I comb/scratch her. (When I scratch her, my fingers come away with dirt on them, she gets so dirty. And yes, she gets baths. And immediately goes to dig/roll in the dirt and replace her dirt.)
Anyway, yes, I am a tired slug who is doing as little as possible and feeling terribly guilty for it, but not enough to stop being a slug. I’m wallowing in my slugness. It IS easy being a slug, and I like it. So there. I may have to take a “writers weekend” to finish this dang book. I could definitely stand to escape to Valley Mills or some other similar place for a few days. Even though I just did… Ah well. Hopefully I’ll be able to scrape the slug coat off soon.