So my son started four weeks of summer school today.
Me: Yay, yay! I’ll put him on the bus at 6:45 am and then I can write until 11:00! My daughter will just play quietly at my feet!
Yeah, right. For one thing, I am not a rise and shine type o’ girl. I’m more rise and snarl. I write hate mail to the sun. I pounce unwary passers by and rip
their throats open with my teeth. Morning writing doesn’t mesh well with my personality.
And my daughter decided that with Niko gone, she is the only child. Mommy exists solely to entertain her, braid her hair, and give her high heels to walk in. We spent the morning playing in the hibiscus. I was growly.
So writing: not a word. Other pressing orders of business: accomplished, with a lot of dancing and jump roping in between. I’m thinking that I may need to reevaluate my “Golly gee, I can write in the morning!” plan. Or just blow it up with dynamite altogether. Mmm, dynamite. Dynamite and mornings go together juuuuuust fine.
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