Apparently, I can’t write when I’m hopped up on cold medicine

I also can’t write when I’m pregnant.  I’ve had two children.  Both times, without fail, anything remotely resembling creativity was sucked out of my very being and replaced by excessive hunger and the uncontrollable urge to pee.  Pop out the kid.  Creativity and well defined ankles return.

So, last week, three out of four people in my house got the flu shot.  The Hubs refuses to get the flu shot every year.  He rationalizes this decision by the fact that he, “never gets sick.”  This is somewhat true.  He normally doesn’t get sick.  When he does get sick, however, it’s writhing around, sweating, shivering, mouth-open-drooling-and-loudly-snoring sick.

Stand back ladies, he’s mine.

Anyway, so, three of us got flu shots.  Four of us are currently sick.  Tonight we were watching football.  The baby was asleep–snoring–and The Toddler, The Hubs, and I were simultaneously sniffling, sneezing, and mumbling, “Uhhhhhh.”

It’s gross.

The boys have been going to bed earlier than they normally do this weekend, due mostly to the fact than they refuse to nap and The Hubs and I are too exhausted to care.  Part of my brain says, “Oh goodie!  Get out the notebook and pen and write!”

The other part of my brain, the part relaxing in decongestant, says, “That would require moving.”

My Writer Brain says, “Lets go!  Free time!  Free time!”

My Lazy Brain says, “I’m motivating.”

I’ve been motivating since Thursday night.  I’ve written nothing.  Okay, that’s not true, I’ve written what you’ve read thus far.  But that’s it.  I’ve thought about writing.  I’ve held my notebook.  I even got as far as putting the laptop on my lap and then, next thing I knew, The Hubs was shaking my shoulder saying, “You need to wake up so you can go to bed.”

There’s nothing worse than being woken up for the sole purpose of going to bed.

All my energy has been poured into wrangling my maniac children.  It’s strange.  Writing, to me, does not seem like a physical activity.  I’m sitting on my butt, either typing away on the laptop  or scribbling away in my notebook.  Look, I count my calories like it’s my day job.  I can tell you what the calorie content is in just about anything–and if I don’t know, I’m going to look it up because chances are I’m not going to eat it if I don’t know how many calories are in it.  The app I use has a place where you can enter your cardio activities, thereby “earning” more eating calories.  Writing is not a calorie burning activity.

But it is exhausting.

I think that’s why I need to start writing at breakfast time.  I base this on the fact that my day job is a desk job.  I stare at a computer screen all day and, by the time I get home, I’m so mentally drained that the last thing I want to do is stare at a computer screen (or notebook) some more and try to create.  By the time my kids are in bed, I either a) watch television, b) pin obscene amounts of recipes on Pinterest, or c) fall asleep.

It’s usually fall asleep.

But hey, look, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.  And it’s probably not death.  No, eventually my cold will go away and we’ll start the ramp up for the “Final Reenacting Event of the Year” event in Gettysburg.  Yes, Gettysburg!  Because we all know I haven’t taken enough pictures of myself at Gettysburg.

Speaking of ramp ups, the 150th of Gettysburg is right around the corner in July 2013.  Start preparing now, because that is going to be straight chaos.  Chaos with an insanity chaser.

Super stoked!  …And now I have to go blow my nose.

Again.

 

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