The last few weeks have been a utter blur. Chaotic, but a blur. I have not queried agents, or checked my email or even looked at my writing (any parts of it for the matter), and obviously have not blogged.

The chaos began when I was visiting my husband in Rifle and got sick. Now, when I was a teacher, I very rarely caught the sniffles or contracted the flu because when you’re in the school system (even for the few years that I did teach), you tend to build up your immune system to fight off the day-to-day nasties. But somehow, with my kids in school and me staying at home, I seem to always be “coming down with something.” Maybe it has to do with not being at the source of the illnesses and instead getting them second hand. Maybe somehow contracting them through someone else who got it from someone else makes it worse, like the virus has mutated and grown into a wild, contagious monster.

Well, my Alvin came home one day with a headache and fever. I dosed him up with some Motrin and all was better overnight. The next day, however, my throat felt weird. Usually if I catch something I’m lucky enough for it to stay in my nose – tissues and a decongestant take care of my problems most days. But the throat, on the other hand, is a completely different animal. Drops and medicine don’t do a thing. And it kept getting worse. One morning I woke up feeling hung over (I rarely drink) with heartburn (that I only get when I’m pregnant) and a feeling that a large piece of dinner the night before was stuck in my throat.

I knew then that I was in trouble. I had strep throat nine times in college. I pulled myself from the bed then, wobbled into the bathroom and confirmed the white puss pockets on my throat. I went to the doctor, told them what I had, got some penicillin and a few days later, I was COMPLETELY recovered. Thanks goodness. Thank you, Alexander Fleming and his crew for “accidently” inventing the mold. The story is short and kind of interesting, if you’re curious:

So, no, I didn’t get any writing done that week.

The week after that was packing/moving week. My hubby and I found a nice house in Rifle where we could, you know, actually live TOGETHER, like normal married couples with kids. The week after that was the get-settled-in week and even though there are still boxes to be unpacked and furniture to buy, I could not deny my hands their need to click on the computer keys.

Writing is a muscle that absolutely has to be worked, and overworked. Denying it for weeks at a time makes it weak and soft, like a body builder who one day just stops. The muscle turns to this loose, squishy thing that is worse than if it was never worked on in the first place. I don’t need my writing to get any more squishy than it already is; I have a hard enough time trying to get people to read it in the first place.

So my goal this week is to jump back into the number one thing that I love to do, even if it is only in fifteen-minute intervals between unpacking and switching over bills and forwarding mail and setting my kids set up at another school and finding the stores that take double coupons and breathing.

Because, we all find time to do the things that are important to us, even if other things suffer for it. Like, personal hygenie or dirty dishes. Which are probably things I should go take of right now…

Right after I go watch The Bachelor that I recorded last night. Because THAT is my first priority today.