I was gone all week last week, and still my house is trashed. A mountain of dirty laundry lurks in the hall by the washer. Every inch of counter-top in the kitchen has some item (non-perishable) of food waiting to be put away. Sand from the beach made the journey home in our clothes and now the carpet needs a good vacuuming and perhaps a shampooing, but that’s another story.
We got home late Saturday night, and we did manage to unload the car.
That was about it. Oh yeah, the food that had to be refrigerated got put away, but the rest of it? Not so much.
And I don’t really find myself too bothered by the chaos. That is odd, for me.
Recovering from being sick for most of the summer and not being allowed to lift more than 10 lbs has put a bit of a damper on the cleaning frenzy I usually indulged in following our past years’ vacations.
I sit and write, and then get up and do a bit of putting away, then I sit and write again. While in Cannon Beach I made serious headway on one of the new sections of Lackland’s tale, and yesterday, instead of cleaning house, I finished it.
Now I just have to flesh-out the chapter I just finished, and then there are two chapters left to write. The problem is, I know what I have to write for those chapters, because I’ve outlined them, and they are really good, action-packed chapters. It will be simple, and for me, it’s a tale that practically writes itself.
Some will die.
I will be letting go of people I love, saying goodbye forever.
I will do many crazy things to avoid that, even if it means I actually finally clean my house.
In fact, I probably should make hummus. Clean the kitchen, do the laundry and make hummus…avoid the whole end of the book problem….