I spent another weekend writing a book, or rather booklet, and my poor RV looks it. Her official name is Wanda but in times like these, I call her my Hobbit Hole.
When I get in a head-down mode, nose to the keyboard and all, I eat at the computer, toss my clothes and everything else wherever it lands. I often worry that something will happen to me in one of these altered states and the EMTs will come to Wanda and refuse to enter. I will have lost my life because I’m a lousy housekeeper when I’m writing.
Not only do I ignore the normal nesting habits of the North American human being during these times of intensity, but I also ignore the rest of the world – with the exception of my wonderful tweeps, who cannot see me and therefore think I’m somewhat normal (I assume).
Seriously though. I left Wanda twice in two days, both times to get rations (in the form of fast food). I did draw back the curtains separating the truck cab from my living space for a few hours, so there was some sunlight.
As soon as I pushed the “publish” button, I showered, dressed and looked around me. Really? OMG (I’m sorry, but I’ve become addicted to that little abbreviation. As my grandmother would say – “This too shall pass.”) The place looked like the Tasmanian devil had whirled through.
I raced off to Wal-Mart to pick up a very necessary prescription that had been waiting since the day before (something else that had fallen by the wayside as a result of my write-a-thon). When I returned I spent an hour restoring order to my living space, which mind you is 180 square feet approximately - an hour on 180 sq. ft.! Does this tell you anything?
So Wanda has been redeemed from the nickname Hobbit Hole, temporarily. It will happen again the next time I get on a writing binge. I really don’t think she minds. After all, I also credit her for making my life simpler so that I can write.
Am I the only one who gets like this? Tell me the truth.