I admit quite readily, that I suck at keeping things up to date. I still have a Micheal Phelps calendar on my wall from 2009 open to January. I never flipped to page to see the next awesome Micheal Phelps photo. Never.
In any case, I have some good
First, I'm boring. I haven't done much. Okay, really I have actually been doing a lot. But most of it is all just "regular" stuff - playing with The Girls, doing laundry, procrastinating.
Second, I am stressed about the whole stupid house situation, dejunking and packing. We found a nice house to rent and the move is on (have I mentioned this yet?).
Third, I am scouring and applying for jobs. I don't want to change jobs because of the economy but I also don't want the job I have. What a conundrum. With the move upcoming, I need something though. Once we move, there is no way that I will be able to commute to work! I'll be working to pay my gas bill!
Fourth, surviving the last weeks of school and trying to maintain my composure. And truly, surviving the last few weeks when the students have shut down because they took the FCAT and clearly have nothing more to learn takes a lot out of a person!
Fifth and quite honestly the most important reason, I have actually been quite diligently researching and planning for a story.
I am going to try a June NaNoWriMo (right, 'cause I need to stress about more stuff) and although NaNo is about a novel in a month, I am not going to rush too much on this one. I have some heavy hitting science research to do so the plot doesn't end up like a bad SyFy movie.
And let me just say that having to resort to the research librarian because I can't find an obscure text about 18th century farming techniques in Florida is slightly awkward.
"So, are you doing a paper?" He asks.
"Um...not exactly, just researching." I reply.
"For...fun?" He asks, one eyebrow popping up into a near perfect arch.
Seriously! Why can everyone else do the Spock eyebrow?
"Well, actually, I need it for a story."
"Oh," he says and I get the feeling he is actually disappointed. "So you're a writer?"
"Yes." I say my face disappearing into a Farmer's Almanac. "Do you think you can get the book about farm tools?"
"Sure," he says, "I'll have to put a request in for it."
I nod. "Thanks," and turn back to the shelves.
He was totally mocking me. I know it. Snarking almost.
So that's where I am. Counting down the last few days of the school year. Searching for a new job. Scribbling notes. Packing. Reading. Plotting.
Breathing. Just breathing.