25 March 2011

Move Post Mortem

I thought we'd lost Clover's swimming kit, but it turns out it stayed at school thoughout the move. Lucky it. I cannot find my grey sweat pants, nor can I find the two wireless gizmos that we didn't need before but probably need now. I don't know why people keep looking at me to find things.  I keep moving from box to box, picking up objects then putting them down somwhere else a few meters away, not necessarily where it belongs just hopefully closer. It's a little like being a goldfish, as I sometimes can't remember what I started out to do, so I turn around and go back the way I came. And then I remember, or at least I think I do, so I turn around again the other way.
This afternoon is the first time I've sat in my "office". Nothing is set up, only my desk and laptop and a lamp and the printer off to one side. I suppose I have saved it for last like a form of dessert. I would like to start writing again on Monday. Is that too much to ask?

15 March 2011

Man Plans, God Laughs

Or woman. God laughs at us women too.

Back in January (was it really only three short months ago?), my plan was to finish the novel I'd started in November, because for the first time in my life I am writing something I think I have a fair chance at selling.  I'll repeat that, just in case you missed it. Selling. As in, for money.

Then the news came I'd have to move. All right – unsettling, but feasible. Not the end of the world. I still have my health and my job. The girls are fine. Okay.

I could see that I'd be uprooted but I that I could cling to some semblance of a word count and then get right back on track when it was over, and still have a shot at completing as much as possible by the end of year instead of end of September.... I could live with that.

Then yesterday hit. Redundancy notice.

It's never a good time for that but ooooooooh, I had other plans!

I am trying very hard to not panic. But I feel so demoralized. I like my job. I like my work-life balance. What will happen to my book if the balance changes? Obviously I won't write well if I don't earn enough to eat, but the writing is a form of sustenance too. And obviously my life has not just been swept away in a tsunami, but I hate that kind of argument, like you're supposed to feel guilty and be satisfied with your lot and shut up, just because your life isn't utterly ruined. I never said I wasn't grateful. It's just that I had....plans.