Things That Interfere with Writing

Well, I’m home. And I haven’t had a chance to write a single word. (At least on my stories.) When I got home, I discovered that I had left my house key in California, forgot the dog’s leash, and probably left my head lying someplace behind my daughter’s couch. Oh, wait. I found my head.

Upon arriving home, I did locate an emergency key, hidden in a spot where no one would ever thing to look for it. Under the front door mat. After letting myself into the house, I was dismayed to find that I still had piles of laundry to do (the clothes I was supposed to wash before I left on my trip), dishes to do, a huge stack of mail to sort through (how many times does Publisher’s Clearing House have to send me something before they realize I am not interested?), spoiled food in the refrigerator (well, not so spoiled that I didn’t try to eat some of it), my bed still unmade from when I left here, and my office just as messy as when I last looked at it.

Aren’t there supposed to be a bunch of elves who come in and do the work for you when you’re gone? They apparently lost my address.

I am slowly getting the place back into some semblance of order. I think all my bills are up to date; I haven’t been evicted; the water, gas and electricity still work.

Now I can get back to work!

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