Hooray! I just finished the main part of my writing project, which has been keeping me busy since early May. I just have to make sure the last portion is ready to send off, and then I'm finished with writing new material. That's a relief. But I'm not completely done: about half of everything I've written is still due to return to me, covered in editorial comments for revision. Still, fixing stuff I've already thought about and written isn't half as hard as conjuring new material out of the air.
Our apartment looks about as filthy, food-less, and book-strewn as any grad student hovel and I'm actually looking forward to spending the next couple of days cleaning. (For the record, my husband always works as hard as I have for the past few weeks, which is why I do most of the cleaning in my normal, chronically unemployed state. And he does pitch in, too. And he hasn't once complained about the appalling mess... I think he's been too busy to even notice.)
I will also go food shopping, and to the farmer's market, and to the library to pick up some novels I'm eager to read. I'll go to the gym, where my sadistic strength-training instructor will make cutting comments about how I haven't been showing up. Believe me, I've wanted to: my legs have semi-permanent indentations from my desk chair these days. I'm going to call the dentist about the tooth that's been hurting since April. And I'm going to give all the cats extra play time and a nail trim. And call my relatives, and try to see some friends. Some Assembly Required and I are overdue for lunch.
On second thought, maybe I'll just sleep in... this is all starting to sound exhausting.
I look forward to resuming my old, boring, pleasant life, more or less. I'm going to miss the challenge of writing about art — and especially learning about a different artist or movement every day. So I need an ambitious project. I've been disciplined about meeting or beating my deadlines, so I should be able to crank out something on my own steam. But what? A short story, a kids' book, a screenplay, haiku? I'm open to suggestions. I'm sure Possum would dictate his memoirs, but he'd want to do it in his native Norwegian.
I feel better now. I can tell that just coming up with an idea could keep me occupied for months. Suggestions are welcome.