Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

a house divided...sort of

I can’t blame everything on PMS, as much as I would love to do.  First of all, no one would buy it.  It seems too farfetched.  After all, PMS lasts a couple of days at best.  Most problems aren’t created or solved in that span of time. 

My husband hopped into the car today—suitcase packed—and headed south.  I only half jokingly exclaimed, “You’re leaving me,” as I bid him farewell with a kiss.  The statement was true enough.  He was definitely leaving me behind.  I imagined he would have rather not, all things considered.  His grandmother was in the hospital, and she’s not doing very well at all.  I’m certain he would have liked for me to be there to stand with him.  Even just for moral support.  And I wanted to go, but he didn’t know how long he would be gone, and I have other commitments that keep me here.  Work being one of them, but also the children.  They aren’t quite self-sufficient enough to leave them the keys to the car, some money for groceries, and the instructions, “don’t do anything illegal while we’re gone.”  Not that I would be worried about wild parties at the house or anything like that.  My oldest child is a stricter parent than I am.  They would be lucky if he let them watch R-rated movies in my absence.

But still…I had to stay, and maybe it was better that way.  There was still a hovering tension between us—something that had “blog” written all over it.

Its funny how something your family was wholly in support of when you started can disintegrate into something they resent and despise.  Mostly because I do this every day, without fail, and in some small way they feel as if it is stealing time meant for them. 

My husband encouraged me to write the blog.  He doesn’t read it most days, and he doesn’t really want to talk about it, but he has been, in a large way, very supportive of it.  He wants me to write.  He would love if that was what I did for eight hours of every day.  But because eight hours of every day is spent toiling away at my day job, the additional hours spent writing is beginning to wear thin. 

Writing a daily blog is a huge undertaking, one that cannot be underestimated.  It requires planning, and thought, and notes, and revisions—things that often last into the wee hours of the night.  But when it finally comes together…it can be truly magical.

I could quit.  It would be easier for me, I’m certain.  No more late nights.  No more struggling for a brilliant topic on a day when absolutely nothing exciting has happened.  No more taking note of the mundane in hopes for magic.  But the simple fact is I love my blog.  I just plain love writing.  It’s part of who I am, and I’ve spent far too many years of my life suppressing it for other things that always seemed “more important.”  There just had to be away for it to coexist in my world without taking away from my job or my family.  There just had to be.

So maybe I just need to take a day of every once in a while.  I’m not totally sold on the idea yet, but I’m thinking about it.  Maybe I can give up other things instead.  Like sleep!  I like sleep, sure, but how much of it do I really need?   I don’t know.  I’m sure I’ll figure it out.  I know what I want to do for the rest of my life, and that is to write, so I will do whatever I need to do to make that become a reality.  I think maybe I just need to run headlong into the fray a little more often so I have interesting things to write about.  Of course, that would mean I would have to run.

I read a great book this weekend, Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith.  It reminded me what being a writer is all about.  It also made me want to sleep with one eye opened tonight.  Especially with my husband out of town.  

Of course, my husband is more like my father than I care to let on, and he has a security system to rival Dad’s, so I’m fairly certain I’m safe.  I’m not taking any chances though.

I’ve armed the alarm system, including the laser motion sensors.  Set the outside cameras to capture the slightest movement on the perimeter of the house.  Every light, inside and out, is on.  The geriatric dogs are prepared to watch for intruders and blind or not my old Labradors would take a leg off anyone who tried to set foot side my house unannounced.   My little pitbull mix has his tennis ball in his mouth and is wagging his tail, but his presence makes for a very frightening visual deterrent.  The fancy decorative swords picked up at an outdoor Renaissance faire are tucked carefully under my mattress where I can easily reach them. They may not be authentic, but if wielded properly would definitely get the job done.  And last, but most certainly not least, the ninja kitty is at the ready—his bed just inside my bedroom door.  You just never can be too careful when your husband is away.  Of course, I do have an adult son in the house, and two teenage daughters (the scariest creatures I’ve come across in the whole of my life!) so I’m not really alone. 

As I finish getting ready for bed, and stare at the cold empty spot where my husband should be snoring away, I suddenly can’t remember any reason to be irritated at him.  Maybe he’ll miss me so much tonight that he’ll read my blog for a change.  I’m pretty funny sometimes, he might actually enjoy it!

Until the next time…I’ll be cowering under the covers until daybreak!

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