where the writers are
The Three Ws

I've been writing like crazy and working like crazy, leaving little time for other matters. Isn't that how it is? You seem to run out of time for everything so you decide what's most important. You can't have it all.

Writing like crazy is my choice. Working like crazy was forced on me. I don't deadlines most of the time and I lurk at most meetings, but I'm always trying to be prepared, returning to an old theme of mine, just in case. I don't want questions catching me by surprise. I once worked for a chief master sergeant who drilled that into me. Looking at the flight board, he'd ask questions out of nowhere. No flying going on, he'd queried me about emergency procedures and checklists. I didn't like missing questions or being unable to answer. Whenever I didn't know, I dug down to learn more and considered the peripheral questions and tangent possibilities. Chief wasn't going to get me. Chief was smarter than me. I responded to that and he let me go after a few months, drifting away from asking me questions. He was good at reading personalities. 

Same with the people now tasking me. They know what I do and enjoy doing, and what I do well. I don't need to be asked to work harder, just give me the right problem, and I'll work like crazy. Logic problems are my favorites. 

I've not been able to meet with my brains on beer group, nor my writing friends. I'm walking less again, although I've made up some of it on the Stairmaster. While it tasks me and I work up a good sweat, it's not the same as walking outside in the sunshine. 

I'm also doing less of the housework than I should but I have been taking care of the cats. Apparently, that's okay in my relationship balance book with my wife. She's been busy these past two weeks as well so the housework has suffered a little. It's not a big deal, a few more dirty dishes out a little longer, a little more dust here or there. Few visitors would gape in horror at our 'dirtiness'. We're not neatniks, just tidy, organized, and good at hiding the dirt and disarray. Don't open any closets.

All this comes to mind today as I look at the work, writing and editing I've done this past week and plan next week. I left the house, cool and shadowy, and discovered a hot sunny world outside. I left the email, spreadsheet and telephone and encountered music, people and traffic. The warmth is enticing. "Come, stay and spend some time with me," she says softly. "Stay and play." Her perfume is alluring and her eyes beguile me. "But I have work to do, I protest. I have to write like crazy and get back to some tasks." "Those will wait until tomorrow, my sweet. Come, walk with me."

It's a very tempting offer. But - 

Back to work.