I don’t know about you, but when I get home from work, I can’t relax until all the chores that need to be done are completed. I’m like a shark – if I don’t keep moving, I’ll sink into a sea of apathy and exhaustion. Nothing will get done. It doesn’t matter how late I work, how exhausted I am. 10 cats and one dog need feeding, floors need sweeping (10 cats generate a lot of pine litter dust), litter boxes need cleaning…there are usually dishes to be washed, laundry to be folded. And if I’m REALLY lucky, one of the kids will have upchucked his/her breakfast and there will be cat vomit to be cleaned up.
I’m tired all over again. Tonight included all of the above, btw. And let’s not forget the recycle and garbage.
By the time I’m finished with all of these things, I’m wiped. My brain is mush, my body exhausted and conjuring up creative energy is a challenge. But part of being a writer is…well…actually WRITING. Working on something. Not just resting on my laurels (and my butt) and thinking about writing. But dang, there are days when I wish I could put corks in my little darlings. I won’t say which end. I’m sure you get the idea.