Here's why I don't blog every night. Or at least, here's why I didn't blog every night before November.
There are literally TEN baskets of laundry to fold. Who knew I had ten baskets to even fill with laundry?? Who knew there was enough laundry to fill ten baskets? Oh yes, now I remember - there are ten baskets because I skipped doing laundry last week because I was busy blogging my nights away.
There is an article I'm meant to be writing for a real company (yay! Another issue of Classic Play coming up!) - a real magazine with actual deadlines and paying advertisers.
There was a parenting moment that needed to happen tonight, a heart to heart conversation that couldn't wait. It needed time, it needed focus, and it needed quiet minutes in the dark to allow the ideas to settle. I'm entering the time of childhood where the hurts of the day begin to be measured in bruised feelings, rather than bruised knees, and that takes more than Band-Aids.
There are all the ingredients for bread pudding in the kitchen, but it needs to happen tonight if I don't want the bread to get moldy.
There is the standard kitchen full of dishes, plus a few from the cookie baking extravaganza from this afternoon.
Oh, and My Show is on tonight. Oh yes I DO think I can dance.
Before these NowNoBlam-O shenanigans, I would have thrown in the towel. (Into one of the ten baskets.) I would have agreed with the world that my house, my family, my marriage, and my TV addiction would absolutely take priority over existential, meandering meditations. And recipes for Pomegranate Chicken.
But honestly? Having a reason to have a sit down with myself and demand to know what Self has been noodling over in recent weeks is HUGE: holding yourself accountable, and reportable, is no small thing. So I'm not sure what output December will bring (have I mentioned I'll have houseguests for almost 4 weeks?) but I do know that as long as Blogger hosts me, the ten baskets might as well keep breeding until there are twenty or so.