I finally, finally have a week off from DayJob. The last time I was off was in January and I’m pretty much clawing my own eyes out.

I have few plans — I’m trying to keep it that way, so I can get a handle on this whole “relaxing” thing. I give myself a day, two at most, before I’m bored of vegging and back to scribbling. But in the meantime I’m going to do my best to do nothing.

Tomorrow I’m off for some overnight camping (camping used in the sense of a trailer with plumbing; you will not catch me sleeping on the ground, ever. Ew). We’ll be in the middle of nowhere, just us girls and the woods and the things that snap twigs and scare the shit out of you in the middle of the night. I can’t wait!

I’ve got posts scheduled for the week, so I’m still “here” in a sense. Please don’t get bummed out if I don’t get to comments right away; I’ll get there, I promise.

Catch ya later!

The Saddest Day is the Last Day of Vacation

It’s my last day of vacation. A lot happened in the past two weeks.

The floor is down in the new office:
(You may remember it looking like this.)

Some things I did:

baked, set up a home office, read, wrote, published, sold some work, took on an art job, slept for days, drank 500 pots of coffee, listened to hours of late-night conspiracy radio, watched cartoons, played with the cats, hung out with the husband, hung out with friends, worked on two novels, and applied for freelance writing work.

I wish I didn’t have to go back. I wish I could work from home instead.

I’d get so much done if I could work here. I’d use breaks so productively, on things like organizing the new spaces. And going on grocery runs. And doing the laundry, in our dark, scary basement…

Shit. Well, maybe that can be the husband’s job instead.