Write Too Much&;#063;

I know, I know, 'To Write Too Much', the very phrase strikes horror
into those that are forced to juggle their time. Those that snatch at
moments, grateful just to write for five minutes, and dream of a time
when they are able to scribble endlessly. There are numerous articles
of not having the time to write (and indeed I've written many of them)
but rarely do you hear of the other way around.

Yes, I'm probably being terribly selfish. But you see I am a writing
addict. I scribble mercilessly for a week, until the muse runs dry, and
then dwell in rehab for a month or two, until the urge wells up once
again.

But to write TOO much? What if the words won't stop? Is there such a
thing? I think it's debatable, and here's why:

I've been sitting at my computer for, I guess around three days now. At
times things have been slow, but for the most part, extremely
productive. I am feeling proud of myself.

Gradually, I notice a sound. Actually it's quite an insistent sound,
which has been going on for quite a while. Amazing how adept you can
become about blocking these things out. This time it's the baby, and
she is not happy. Voicing loudly the fact that she has just been
plonked into her play-pen, for yet another day, with nothing to do but
throw her toys out, and bite mummy's finger (mum rarely notices
anyway).

A twinge of guilt. So I move her. Placing her in her crib, another
'baby prison', but this seems to quieten her. I sit down beneath it,
muttering words randomly- an attempt at paying her attention. Actually,
the first 'conversation' that I've had in days. Oh well.

A while later, I notice that there is cramp in my foot. Stretching it,
I realize that I am unable to because the dog has been lying across it,
for some time now. She too, is staring up at me with pleading eyes,
reminding me that it is an absolutely gorgeous day outside. Perfect for
hiking in the mountains, perhaps a picnic lunch in the snow.

O.k, maybe later. I'll just finish this chapter. And perhaps another
one after that...or two, or three...

Ouch! What on earth was that?! A bottle, wielded from the hands of the
baby, who is standing above me in baby prison, has just hit me firmly
on the top of the head. It is empty, she having finished the formula.
(JUST finished the formula, I am hoping).

I drag myself reluctantly into the kitchen to refill it. Ignoring the
mountain of dirty dishes, erupting from the now foul-smelling sink.
Plundering around for the tin of formula, I notice that it has fallen
down by the three trash bags. They are full. The formula tin is empty.
Oh crap. I was supposed to buy some more yesterday. Forgot.

Darn it. I curse irritably. I am outdoor person, staying inside for two
days makes me irritable. Today I am downright cranky. And my teeth
hurt....hmmm....probably my body could do with a better diet than just
chocolate and cookies. But I simply MUST write. Maybe I'll make a
proper meal for my husband and I, later. Wow, when was the last time I
made a proper meal? In fact when was the last time I saw my husband?
Hey, I could write an article about that........."GET OFF ME
DOG!!!!!".....

Finally, hours later, after God has given me a swift 'guilt kick' in
the behind, I find myself driving through the mountains. The baby is
happily drinking milk (having just bought it from the store), and
munching on animal crackers. Amazing how she never gets sick of these.
Actually, she probably could do with a better diet too.

It really IS a gorgeous day. I breath in the fresh air, drawing it deep
into my lungs, exhaling, cleaning out all those cobwebs. My eyes adjust
to the brilliant light, as the sun reflects joyfully off the dazzling
snow. Taking in the vastness, the magnificent majestic beauty of it
all, I am filled with warmth, peace, and thankfulness. How lucky I am.
How wonderful that I finally ventured out. What great poetry this would
make.....oh, and here's my notebook.

Now, two hours later, the sun has set. Drawing heavy curtains over this
incredible world before me. I am word-weary, and it's time to go home.
My husband will be home from work. I probably should have cleaned house
a bit, and there go my plans for making dinner. Oh well. At least the
baby has fallen asleep peacefully beside me, and.....what's that
scratching in the back of my car?

Did I forget to let the dog out?.....