Let me just..

It's time to write. But first, let me take care of this laundry. It's not gonna do itself. Then I can write...well, at least I can after I take care of the bills and make sure we don't end up homeless because telling The Husband I forgot to pay the rent after my Muse said it was time to get Creative isn't gonna do much for my marriage. So I'll write after I take care of that little piece of business. Oh shit. I totally forgot about the time. Here I am with my laptop ready to go and Inspiration revving to go and Buttercup reminds me suddenly that her belly-panza is hungry for something to eat and some leche, mama! I can't come up with a good reason to make her wait for me to finish what I haven't even had a chance to start yet (and really, I am not that skilled at negotiating with a two-year-old) so I set the laptop aside, tell Inspiration to shut the hell up for a second while I go hunt up some grub for the kid, and promise myself I'll write after I do this last thing...

But wait! Now Buttercup needs a bath because she decided to condition her hair with spaghetti sauce, the floor needs mopping because the dogs are only so good at picking up the discarded edibles from the toddler's plate, and I've got more dishes to do and dinner to prep. Let's see...if I clean off the table and mop while Buttercup watches Nick Jr. in her saucy glory, I can run her up to the bath after I finish that and then get her dressed again before running back downstairs to stain-treat her lunch clothes, get them in the laundry, and the chicken marinated while the grill pre-heats. And while that's happening, Buttercup and I will just take a little walk out to the mail box to grab today's mail and...damn it. I've got more bills to pay.

So um, where was I? Oh yeah, dinner. The Husband has just gotten home from work and informs me we're out of lunch meat for his daily sammiches. That reminds me that I need more eggs and milk for tomorrow. And since the gym is right next door to the grocery store, I'll just mosey on over after this evening's Zumba class, come home, shower, get Buttercup in bed for story time, and then come downstairs again for a few minutes of peace before I...

Wait. What's next on that list? Right...gotta get those stain-treated clothes out of the dryer and good, we're in the clear which is great because...What's that? Oh, you want a salami sammich for tomorrow, dear? That's fine. Sweet dreams. No, I'm not coming to bed until after I've finished your lunch, the dishes from dinner, and taken my shower, and Damn it, I haven't even started the Christmas cards yet...

No, sweetie, I won't stay up too late. Don't worry.

Ok then, now that I have the house to myself I can finish this crap up pretty quickly here and at least get a start on the Christmas cards before calling it a day and crawling into bed for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before Buttercup wakes looking for me in the middle of the night.

My last thought before drifting off? "Well, fuck. Looks like I'll have to squeeze the writing in tomorrow."

After all, I've only got a few things to take care of.  It should be a breeze.