Friday, July 11, 2003

A Fortress of Solitude

I can't believe I have a whole day to myself. My beautiful and wonderful parents have taken the kids for a whole day, so I can write, write, write. And just be quiet. And not fetch a sippy cup.

Who knew how hard it would be to carve away a little time to yourself with the kiddies around? My dad, the professor, was always able to go into his office and close the door, because my mom was around to fetch the cup and wipe the butt and kiss the boo-boo. In order to work, I have to have some zen space, a citadel of silence. I need time to write a couple of paragraphs and then fiddle about and then write some more. In our little apartment, it's so hard to think with the Raffi CDs going on constant rotation, a meowing cat, trains being crashed, and babies that need kissing. When my husband comes home at night at around 7:00, I'm too beat to work. Physically and mentally drained. All I'm fit for is Access Hollywood and "I Love the 80s".

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