I can remember thinking that working at home would be soooo relaxing, especially once the school year started and the progeny was off to the wonderful land of learning. My idyllic weekdays would consist of waking up at a leisurely hour, brewing my cuppa, eating my breakfast while posting on social media, and then enjoying an uninterrupted day of transferring stories from head to screen.

I’m not sure where you are but wherever it is, you can probably hear me laughing. Yes, some days are like that, but they are few and far between. All the crucial stuff I used to cram into my short evenings and weekends is now spread out across the entire week. Not only that, but that “stuff” magically multiplied.

The dirty clothes have mutated, developing rabbit-like reproductive capabilities. The dirty dishes followed suit. Groceries must still be bought. Meals must still be made. The progeny’s toys still migrate throughout the house. The feline overlord’s litter box still has to be cleaned. The school calls, the hubby needs an errand run, the neighbors or cable salespeople come a-knocking when I’m bra-less, etc., etc. A million little things crop up over the course of the day to tear away my focus. My life is way more hectic now than it ever was when I worked at an office Monday—Friday. That was snooze-ville compared to this.

But you know what? It is so worth it, because in between the chaos and confusion, I get to do what I’ve wanted to do since I was four years old and learned about how books came into being. I get to do what I LOVE. I get to write—and all of my stories have happy endings!