My Summer Vacation

It’s the end of my first week of summer vacation.

And it's the last week of it because summer school starts on Monday.

So I’m sitting here at noon, in my robe and slippers. My face feels gritty because it hasn’t been washed yet today and I want to go wash it, but I promised myself I’d write this blog post first.

And I’m writing because of the myriad things I told myself I’d get done this week, writing was the top priority.

That - and signing my divorce papers, but I did that unceremoniously last night at the bank in front of their notary public with a yellow Chase Bank pen that I thought about asking for afterwards to commemorate the occasion but I didn't. I signed the papers and she stamped them and then I drove them to my soon-to-be ex’s house and put them inside the Weber grill on the back patio as he requested. Not to burn them, you understand, but because he thought that was a safe place and he didn’t want them in the mailbox and he certainly didn’t want me in his house while he was gone. Or any other time.

So that’s done and now I’m writing. I wrote several pages in the sequel and went back and found some glaring chronological errors in the early chapters and fixed those and now I’m writing this blog post, which, so far, if you hadn’t noticed, is about nothing.

I was going to write about wine today because I haven’t written about wine for a while. Except on Twitter, where I mention wine about every third word. But I don’t really feel like writing about wine, believe it or not. I feel like drinking it, but it’s only noon, so I’ll wait a few more hours.

The new neighbors have a big dog that barks most of the day when they’re not home. It’s distracting. He’s barking now. Wooof.  (pause) Wooof. (pause) Wooof.  (ad infinitum)

On the table to my right is a stack of papers I have to fill out for my new part time job. To my left is a book about teaching yoga to children, which I have to do next week at summer school. The vacuum cleaner is behind me waiting ever so patiently. All of those things I can put off until after I wash my face.

But writing can’t wait.

There isn’t anything else. In the end, that’s all that’ll be left of me. My writing.

I’m going to go wash my face now.

Visit me on Twitter (@CeceliaHalbert)