After a long day of having people need me almost constantly, I plod through the side door of my little country home with all the ambition of a work mule who has pulled and plow all day long. My brain is toast and my legs feel as if they are pushing through two feet of water. I want nothing more than to eat what my wife has cooked and fall into my recliner with some beer.
But the day is not over. The daughter needs help with her homework. The wife needs help with the laundry or the dishes. The oldest (a driving teenager) needs help with his truck. Whatever. Something comes up and another hour or so of my day is gone.
Then the recliner and the beer beckons to me. I fall into it. It is Heaven, as if Angels had carried to my new resting place, laid me there, and wrapped me in a warm breeze. It feels good. I want to stay there. Writing is not even on my mind at this point.
That feeling does not last for long, however. As the warmth of the beer melts the day off my mind, a new warmth settle into me, a new warmth and urge. Soon, even though I came through the door with nothing on my mind but turning my mind off, I realize it is not to be turned off. Not ever. Without even realizing it, I am on the laptop once again, with music from my headphones drowning out the noise around me, my fingers tapping the keys once again.
Tonight and last night, I worked on a short story rewrite. Tonight I also completed this new blog.
What are your days like? Do you feel like writing is the last thing on your mind when you come home? Do you then feel enlightened when you do start the words flowing? Do you feel like you have cheated yourself out of you place of serenity if you do not write?
Please let me know.