My idea of vacation is a vacation from my domestic servant role. I know it's a necessary role and don't mean to sound bitter about it. The fact is that if something happened to me, the toilets in my home would never ever be cleaned again. I know this for a fact - the fact is a clean house is only important to me. No one is begging me to clean for them. They just don't care - I do, so I clean. I care about clean laundry - they don't. I want the carpet to be clean, no one else. So I clean.
But not this week. This week we were supposed to be at the beach. I was going to rest my throbbing foot on the wet sand while sitting in a lounge chair under a big shady umbrella while finishing my novel. We were going to stay at a hotel and not a rental house specifically so I would not have to make a bed or clean a toilet.
My vacation specifically involved writing - it wasn't supposed to be a break from writing. It was going to be a writing marathon. I was going to write until I couldn't write another word and then spend the rest of the day enjoying my kids. Since we are home, guess what I've done? That's right - a lot of cleaning and zero words added to my novel. It is on my desk beckoning me, calling to me, begging me to write it. Or maybe it's me drawn to it.
The morning-afternoon portion of the day today has been dedicated to going to the amusement park, an activity I can't do. I know my kids and husband will love it, but I will be stuck sitting in a wheelchair in the hot sun. Not enjoyable. So I offered to stay home to await the delivery of our new mattress with the secret plan to work on my novel.
This morning, my husband has been talking to my toddler too much about amusement parks and roller coasters. Now my toddler wants to stay home...with me. I love him and think it's super sweet he wants to hang out with me, but seriously, the little guy needs to go. But my husband won't stop talking about it. It has become a battle of wills. Not good at all. Days that start like this are never good days. A change in plans may be necessary. But not for me. My husband can suffer through the whining of the toddler today since he's the one that put him over.
Today I will write. Alone. In absolute peace and quiet...but not before I get them out the door.