Last night, I stayed up until midnight grading papers so I could have today free to go to the library and write.
As I showered this morning, I considered how crazy it is that I can’t get any writing done at home. My house is just one big distraction begging me to do anything but write. I’m not quite a true hoarder, but I must admit that I have let things get a bit out of hand.
I just bought a new dinette set and couch with part of my tax refund money. The old furniture left last weekend, and I was left with a huge empty space in my dining room and living room while waiting three days for the new stuff to arrive. After the first day, I was ready to cancel my order.
That huge, empty space in my house, completely uncluttered—well, let’s just say that empty space looked a little like freedom to me. Continue reading “My house won’t let me write”