My friend and colleague was at it again.
"You haven't been writing, April," he said during a recent phone conversation. "What's going on?"
I forget exactly what I said in response, but whatever phrase I used caused the concern in his voice to ratchet up several notches. I quickly backtracked: "I'm fine, really. It's just way busy around here right now."
We are experiencing very full days right now. Full weekends as well. Last weekend was so packed that I turned to Warren and said "I hate the weekends. I just want it to be Monday again."
My calendar is scribbled on day after day. I am still struggling with the tiredness that took a running headlong leap onto main stage when I got sick earlier this month. I have been so tired in recent weeks that it started to nag me. Was it "just" tiredness? Was it something else? ("Something else?" There is only one "something else" in my life.) It finally hit me yesterday that I am commuting two hours a day - an hour each way - taking Sam to and from work.
I shared my discovery with Warren over supper last night. I told him I thought my driving to and from Acorn Farms Monday through Friday was taking a bigger toll on my energy than I had realized and was tampering with my overall sense of good health.
Warren couldn't keep the broad smile off his face.
"What? What's that smug smile about?"
Warren protested. He wasn't being smug. He was, however, pleased to remind me that he had pointed out that very fact several weeks ago and had offered more than once to give me an occasional break by driving Sam himself.
I have nine weeks left of the daily commute, followed by a whirlwind driving trip to Montana and back. Between now and then are concerts, the garden, a quick trip south to pick up instruments, and a handful of holidays.
Right now I am missing too many things. I miss writing - this blog, letters to friends. I miss having pools of quiet time in my day. I miss taking the time to sit with friends and really listen, really share. I miss time with Warren that is not backed up against competing schedules or sandwiched in between four errands and three meetings.
I think I need to take a carving knife to my schedule.
As I have written more than once before, ultimately I'm the one filling in the blanks on my calendar. Oh, sure, there are some things - taking Sam to work, the upcoming concerts - that are fixed and must be worked around. But almost everything else is my doing.
No wonder my Muse has fled. She is probably out back, watching the garden grow.
Which is where I need to be. Just as soon as I get back from court. Well, and get the dishes done too. And make the bed. And figure out what we are taking to the cookout on Monday. And finish a memo for the judges. And...
Where's that carving knife?