How did I spend my summer vacation?
Well definitely not the way I had planned.
I had such great aspirations. I was going to write at least, at least 1,000 words a day. I had twelve days off from work. 1,000 words a day, well there’s at least 12,000 words. Right? That would be almost 1/4 of the way to getting a 50,000 word novel done. What a great start.
But did that happen?
No. Nor did get sorted all my stacks of papers from writing courses I have taken over the years, or articles I’ve saved, or the mass of pages I have written over the years.
Did I make a dent? Yes, I made a dent, but a very small one. Papers are still strewn all over my living room, on the backs of two chesterfields, and the cushions. I think the coffee table is still under the papers but it will be a while before I see the bright gleam of its oak surface.
Company coming. What do I do? Blindfold them at the door until they cross the threshold into the relatively clean kitchen, make them promise to keep their eyes closed while I lead them past the mess, (I know if I ask nicely they won’t peek), or do I stay up all night and get the damned pages sorted?
Well, I made a compromise. I stayed up very late and sorted some of the papers and put them in assorted binders or folders. But as my eyes couldn’t focus any more, and my bed was singing a soothing lullaby, I gave in and promised myself to just lie down and rest for a few minutes, just a few...My eyes were so heavy.
Then the sun rudely woke me. Surely the clock was lying. How much could I get done before my company arrived? Not near enough. Now half of the papers are in distinct piles that I’m sure I get done on my next vacation.
,br> So what was my excuse for not writing those 1000 words a day, not getting all of the papers sorted, not to mention the basement that was supposed to be cleaned?
I can always get the pages sorted and the words written on my next vacation.