The last few days, I’m having a really hard time coming up with interesting things to blog about. I’m having a really hard time keeping my eyes open, really. The naps I’ve been taking could easily enter the realm of the legendary.
Before you jump to uterus-related conclusions, let me just say I don’t think this is a sign that I’m you-know-what. I think it’s a sign that I’ve been running on extra-high speed for … well, way too long. Months, easily. Probably more like a year or… okay, two.
It may not seem like things are calming down, what with the trying to get you-know-what and the remodeling and the blogging and the working on an outline for a YA book and the breaking of a movie with WP… but for the first time in a LONG LONG time, I’m not spending most of my time at my super-full-time job.
I am, for the moment at least, experiencing that thing we TV writers love more than we love our mothers: hiatus.
For several weeks, possibly even (dare I say?!) a couple months, I will only be answering to myself. And to WP, of course. And to the vagaries of Trying to Conceive. But compared to my usual life, that’s nothin’.
Anyway, a symptom of hiatus seems to be that at about three o’clock every afternoon my whole body goes, “Nap time!” And then my brain checks my schedule, shrugs and responds, “Cool by me.”
It doesn’t help that I’m trying to meditate, which is basically a gateway nap. Every single time I close my eyes for a fifteen minute meditation, the next thing I know it’s two hours later, and I’ve been dreaming of soft, soothing voices, blankets of positive energy, and houses that represent… I’m not sure exactly what the houses represent, actually. I’m always out cold by then.
And damn, it’s nice.