Learning to take some time to myself

Raining yet again. Or should I say, still? It is getting a bit boggy, to be honest, and every surface is slick with damp. 

I didn't end up doing much in the way of writing yesterday; the doggo is sick, and I spent most of my time cleaning up after her. Poor thing, poor me. I hope she's better today. I hate to see an animal feeling poorly. It makes me feel really helpless. 

Maybe today. We'll see if I get inspired or at least feel guilty enough to transcribe my scribbles from the conference. At any rate, it'll be a stretch of time --that is something that summer break can do for me, give me a little more flexible, unstructured time. Until and unless I fill it with "to-do" projects, which is what I usually tend to do. 

So this is what I'm going to try to do: schedule my writing time like I do the house work and groceries. Maybe then I'll get more done. Or at least, I'll have time to do things, without all the self-distractions. 

It's kind of strange to confront the fact that the way you are raised affects your whole damned life, isn't it? My mother was quite fond of telling me to find something to do or she'd find something for me. This was often lobbed my way when I was sitting down to read. If I was not engaged in something visibly productive, then I apparently needed direction-- usually in the vein of house chores. 

I'm still trying to unlearn this trope. It's about time.

(And how many words with the letter u have I typed this morning? That's so odd.)

Take care,

C