Admittedly I never want to work. I mean I do in an intellectual sense. I’m always going around saying, “I wish I had more time to work,” and I spend a lot of effort trying to clear some time so I can work, but then when I actually do have the time to work, I’ll do anything to avoid working.
But I digress. (I always digress. You could even argue that for me writing a blog post is a simple act of digression.)
The point is, it’s summer! No one wants to work in the summer. (I know this because if I try to contact anyone in the publishing world about some work-related question, she’s probably still away for the weekend even if it’s, you know, Tuesday. I find I can still usually reach people at around 11 am on a Wednesday. Wednesdays don’t count as the weekend even during the summer. But any other day of the week can transform itself into a weekend day during the months that don’t have an “R” in them.)
Digressed again, didn’t I? If life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans, then a blog is what happens while you’re busy digressing.
When I was a kid, I’d walk out of school on the last day and be basically free to do whatever I wanted until whatever day in September I was due at the next grade. Because we had a lake house, we’d just go there and stay there all summer long, enjoying the water, our books, our games, (lots of card games. Lots of them. Mostly Old Maid. Oh, and cribbage which I’ve forgotten how to play but wish I remembered–anyone out there know how to play? Oh, lord, I’m digressing again) and dealing with the ten million relatives and friends who descended each weekend to eat the food my mother prepared. (Guess her summers weren’t all that free, come to think of it.)
My kids do more organized activities than I did (although many fewer than most of their peers) but I still leave as much time as possible for us to just be lazy together because that’s what I think a summer should be: lazy, long, hot, and happy.
The only problem? I’m getting behind in my work. Having a book deal hanging over your head is a nice problem to have, as people always point out to me when I try to complain, so I won’t whine about it, but still, here I am at the computer and the sun is out and the grass is green and I hear kids splashing in a pool in the distance . . .
Ah, the hell with it. Toss me a popsicle and save me a space in the shade. It’s freakin’ summer!