Guilt is a weird emotion, isn’t it? Right now, I’m feeling hugely guilty and it’s for the most remarkably stupid reason.
Due to the problems I’ve had with headaches and my eyes this past couple of weeks, I’ve forced myself off the PC at home in the evenings as much as possible to give them something of a rest. The knock-on result of this is that my writing has suffered a two week hit in productivity.
I’ve got some of it done, so it’s not a complete loss, but I’m nowhere near at the output I need to be to meet deadlines. I’ve emailed my editor for Project: Carpark to explain my pitiful little plight and he’s unsurprisingly very understanding and for that, I’m hugely grateful. However, the guilt remains. It’s a combination of setting myself targets and failing to achieve them and my pathological need to be on time, I think. I’m good at feeling guilty about stuff, I suppose.
Frequently, I’ve lamented the difficulties of juggling a full time job and a family with the pressures of writing deadlines. This last two weeks has been insane in regards to that juggling act. My eye problems, meetings at the Son’s school, arguments with the Ex Husband… I haven’t got home before 8pm any night this week and I’ve had enough now. Fortunately, the only thing on the cards tonight is an hour at the gym, so I’m looking at getting in for around 6pm. Much better.
Didn’t sleep terribly well last night due to the gale force winds. Where I live is on a street that acts like a wind tunnel in high winds and I woke up on about four separate occasions due to bumps and thumps and other noises that serve to wake you up briefly and then fail to let you squish back up to Morpheus. Stupid night time noises.
Himself is away this week, camping in the Lake District. Yes, you did hear that right. Camping. In the Lake District. In October. This is because Himself is Not Quite Right In The Head. This means that I have the entire bed to myself, but still, naturally, sleep on the very edge, taking up as little space as is humanly possible. See? Guilt. Refusing to let me take more of the bed than is absolutely necessary.
I’ve also had guilt this week in the form of worrying about the Son’s revision (as previously documented). An overload of guilt. ENOUGH!
I’m going to check the finances and contemplate treating myself to a half-decent new laptop to use for writing, in better lighting than my PC which sits in a dark and gloomy little corner. When Himself drags his carcass back from the Lake District, I’ll utilise his Man Skills to swap my desk with his as he’s right next to the window which is eminently preferable for writing during the weekend. (It’s also right next to the radiator, which makes it a more appealing place to be in the winter – last year, I was writing whilst wearing gloves and a scarf). What I wouldn’t give for a bigger house and a room I could call my study…
I have a laptop. It’s about seven bajillion years old. I don’t think I’d turned it on for something like eighteen months. I fired it up and after it had installed every update known to man, moved along with all the celerity of a slug tied to a fifteen tonne weight. The left shift key fell off years ago and whilst the shift function itself still works, it’s a bit temperament. The ‘D’ key is decidedly non-compliant to my will. It keeps freezing. Frankly, it’s a bit archaic and just a tiny bit rubbish. So I need to treat myself. The problem with this, of course, is that it comes down to a new laptop… or my possible holiday to Finland in February. I’m not convinced I can afford both at this time. We shall see. I shall shop around and consider my options.
(And before the floods of ‘buy a Mac’ come pouring in, that’s not going to happen. I’d dearly love a Mac, but it’s so far outside my price range that it’s not even remotely amusing).
Buying a new laptop means that I can write in a warmer, brighter area of the house and it means that I won’t put quite so much strain on my eyes. Good heavens, I’m doing something for myself!