ieva melgalve

I’ve spent several days not caring much about whether I do what I’m supposed to or not, and it’s been catching up on me, slowly and politely at first, like an avalanche. I get some things done but out of my priority list, I haven’t resubmitted the story I think would be fine for resubmitting now (that I’ll do today), I haven’t finished preparations for NaNoWriMo (that, too, I would need to bug myself about).
On the other hand, I have written a beautiful story that (like most of beautiful stories) has very little of a story arc and all that other stuff stories are supposed to have, I have baked 3 pizzas in 24 hours, I have rediscovered my attachment to confined places when I’m slightly hungover and restless in the middle of the night (that’s the coolest part of being a vampire: you get to sleep in a coffin…at least I hope they do, not that I’m one), and this morning, I without much consideration handled the kids easily and without much fuss.
But I hate this feeling that my life is blobbing around and I have no idea what is supposed to happen next and whether I’ll be able to pull it all together during next week.
So, back to the planning, back to the task lists and other stuff.