This has been a hard week. My sister’s dogs are both old, and one of them has been having a lot of problems. I drove Mary to the vet’s last Thursday, because neither of us thought Ebbie would be coming home with her, and I knew she’d be a mess. It’s hard to sob and drive. Neither of us are graceful or pretty when we cry. But the vet gave Ebbie meds for nausea, and they worked for her once before, so we drove back with the dog and a glimmer of hope. Unfortunately, the med was a bust this time around, and on Monday, before the blizzard hit, my sister drove back to the vet’s on her own. She was prepared this time, she said, and wanted to be alone. This time, she didn’t come back with her dog.
I talked to her later that day, and she said the poor dog was so sick that it was a relief to be able to spare her any more misery. She said she was doing fine. She was just tired. But I knew she’d call later that night, crying. And she did.
Then the snow started. Lots and lots of snow. So did the phone calls. Lots more than usual. It’s hard to write around one phone call after another. And I know I could ignore them. I could shut my office door and tune them out. But when bad weather comes, people get more upset, so I answered them. And listened. And I’m glad I did.
Then there were things to do. But I still wrote. And I thought of new chapters. And I’m happy with what I got done. But today, I’m out of steam. I feel like someone hit me with a tired stick. So I worked on the second book I started. And I got jazzed up about it. I was in a different set of minds, a different setting, a different type of feel. And it gave me the energy to get more words on pages than I expected.
But tonight, I’m sagging. I’m going to bed early and sleeping in late. I ordered enough groceries to feed most of our neighborhood and we pick them up tomorrow. After I put them away, I’ll try to write again. I’m excited about both books now, so maybe I’ll take turns writing scenes for them. I’m behind on lots of things, but I want to keep pushing forward with my writing. I feel like The Little Engine Who Could when she felt like she couldn’t. But I’ll get there. I always do. My energy will come back. This is just part of my February annual drop in place. It happens to me every year.
I don’t know if February wears you out or not, but I hope you’re hanging in there. And happy writing!