I've had a bit of a writer's block lately. Make that an everything block. Too much work, responsibility, and guilt over the many unaccomplished items on my to do list had reduced me to nothing less than veg mode. So I took a week off of work, making sure everyone at the office knew I wasn't actually going anywhere, I just NEEDED away from the place. Things like floor scrubbing and connecting with teenage son and daughter go sadly neglected when you're toiling at at the office from 8:30 to 5:00+ every day (doing the job of at least two full-time employees, I might add).
So after three whole days absent from the magazine I realized I did need a break, but not necessarily to take care of unfinished duties at home. What I needed was QUIET. At least that's what my God told me as I peered out over the ocean accompanied by the refrain of crashing waves — and his voice — on day one. Seems floor scrubbing is really low on his priority list. The real issue: He doesn't take kindly to me going through the motions and all but completely ignoring him on a daily basis and this needed to be dealt with — immediately. That and I should thank my ex for bringing me to this place. Um, where did that come from? And again, yesterday, he pompously made himself appear to me in magnificent loveliness during my morning exercise walk, verifying to my very own self that as much as I bitch and moan about my dire situation on this planet, there are glimpses of heaven everywhere I look. And if you happen to live in paradise as I do, the glimpses are full-length features in glorious technicolor. THIS is why I'm here, he tells me. I'm listening. And I see.