Well, I've been a bit burned out lately on writing. Been trying to think where in the world I'm going next. Isn't that an awful confession? I mean, you're never supposed to let your audience know that you've been busy not being busy. But alas, it's the truth, and I'm not too ashamed of it. Just a little.
But, anyway, all that to say I just plunked down at the computer this morning and let myself know that I had to write something before I turned from an avid author to an avid couch potato. So, this is just to let you know that I indeed am writing:
"It’s the little things in life that you’ve got to watch out for. Like toenails. But let me back up. My life isn’t too unusual. I’m a stay at home mom with a toddler. My husband works wonderfully hard to provide for us, and he usually has a rather gleeful grin on his face when he trudges off to work. I don’t blame him. It can become a madhouse pretty quickly around here, and there are times, say every day about an hour before nap time, that I wish that I, too, could escape to a cubicle.
But those moments of panic and hysteria are fleeting. I sometimes go hours on end without having a single breakdown. This week, for instance, was…well, let’s use last week. Wait, I’ve forgotten last week. Must have blocked it out of my memory. Anyway, I’m sure there are good stretches where I’m the calm, peaceful mother and wife that everyone would admire and pine over. It must be true, or why would I still be doing this?"