Let’s see: they’re back in school. They’re all full day four days a week–not the same four days, but four days. I should feel like I have more time, right? Or at least more time than I did this summer.
When does that start?
After I make that trip in to Lily’s class midday for her “unique week,” probably.
Or maybe after the three multi-hour midday meetings for the community ski program I run, because I was apparently, in one moment two years ago when I had to volunteer anyway because my kid was in the program as a kindergartener and you have to, weak. I am not usually weak. “No” is my middle name. This is why.
Or maybe it will be after the two “family picnics” we have this weekend. One family picnic is fun. Two is overkill.
Or maybe after the family birthday party for Rory next week. Or her real birthday party, a week later because, well, I didn’t get on it quick enough.
I’ve had dozens of midweek interruptions just in the seven–count ’em, seven–days they’ve all been in school. (Including some, like the haircut I put off all summer, that I actually wanted.) It doesn’t feel like I’ll ever get out of this feeling that I just need another hour. I write slow. I think hard. Then I write slow some more, and then I rewrite, slow. I write in molasses, basically. I write slow and the days go by fast.