I list goals for the year, the month, the weeks, and daily goals, too. I’m sure, if you’re not a list-er, it sounds like a lot of work. But I’m so used to thinking in terms of “Things To Do” that I get a little anxious if Monday rolls around and I can’t find my list of “Writing Things to Do.”
So you would think I’d get anxious when life interrupts the goals and the lists, right? But I don’t. Maybe it’s because I have The Junior Halls, and it’s impossible to always stay on track when kids (yes, even grown ones who refuse to pose decently for one lousy picture) are around. Maybe it’s because I’m a woman of a certain age. Women of a certain age seem calmer, less Oh-my-Lord-we’re-all-gonna-die-if-I-don’t-get-this-done and more Oh-my-Lord-we’re-what-was-I-trying-to-get-done?
But I think the most likely reason of all (to quote my favorite Dr. Seuss, How The Grinch Stole Christmas) is not that my heart is two sizes too small, but that I’m pretty good at prioritizing. This past month has been hectic, what with my mom taking a spill, and me zipping back and forth to Savannah, and Thanksgiving hoopla and I don’t know what all. So. I’m just now getting to piled-up emails and manuscripts I thought I’d finish long before the end of the month.
And that’s okay. Folks are usually pretty understanding when you finally email them back. And the manuscripts will get finished, maybe by the end of December.
Maybe not. Which is my very long way of saying that I’m on a sort of semi-vacation during December because family and Christmas take priority. It’s possible that you may not see as much of me on the blog or your blogs.
Plus, you know I have this lazy streak, right? (Or you know now.)