I should be doing laundry today. The plan was to do laundry today. Dragged Husband to the store yesterday for laundry detergent so I could do laundry today. The store didn’t have the brand/type I like, I told myself not to be an idiot and chose something else. And yet, see my basket, perched on top of the full hamper, filled with…not laundry. Behind it, my file cabinet, filled with school stuff from the kids, medical info, and old bits of manuscripts, printouts of agent info, ancient rejection letters.
The good part of this move was that it kept me too busy to think for a bit. And by think, I mean obsessing about the lack of agent responses on my manuscript. I told myself if I hadn’t heard anything by the time we were moved in, it was okay. I’m still in a bigger better space, I still have a brand new dishwasher I’m infatuated with, I still have my own, personal workspace with a desk, I still wrote a novel I’m proud of. If I don’t receive any offers, so be it, right? This end is out of my control. So what if I never make a dollar from my writing? I’m sure as hell not alone in that. I will not sit at my new desk and wonder what the point of having it is. I’ll focus on my new space, I’ll continue to fix it up, I’ll keep blogging, I’ll continue planning my tank, I’ll stay on top of the laundry.