I'm lying on the couch with next door's answer to Ringo Starr drumming away in my right ear and My Name is Earl in the left (yes I could turn it off but then the left ear would feel left out now wouldn't it). While my ears are taking all this in I'm still trying to convince myself that I am still a writer. The novel has been left feeling very neglected and I haven't managed to finish a short story in ages. Not to mention my recent lack of posts here. I miss it I really do. I have blamed everything from the weather to 'life just getting in the way' and I'm starting to piss myself off with my excuses. I'm now getting my priorities right. I decided that yesterday's piano lesson would be the last one for a while so I can put my time and money into my writing. I won't make any promises but I really want to do this and hope it doesn't become something I fear/despise/become bored of.
Tomorrow we have people coming to see the house. I so hope they like it so we can be freed of paying other peoples mortgages and be let out of our rental agreement early. As soon as they leave the house, the novel as I now so laughingly call it, won't know what hit it. (I really really hope I don't get sucked in by the remote control yet again). I still think I would make a great TV critic. It's like a 2nd job which I actually like.