Making Time

This is my allotted time slot. The kids are being bathed and put into bed. I run around the house frantically closing windows. *Click* and the air conditioning turns on. I jump on the couch and begin winding the crank that closes the window in the living room and my elbow sinks into something wet and slimy. Fantastic. I swear under my breath and go get the cleaning solvent and begin scrubbing. This is my time. This is my appointment. I drop the wad of paper towels in the trash, fill up a tall glass of water and head downstairs. I break open a granola bar and begin munching. I stare at this blog and begin aimlessly clicking on old posts. What am I doing here?

This is my time. Sit down and do something. Write? Bang away on a guitar? As is usually the case, each option fills me with dread. I stare at a PHP/MySQL manual and wonder why the hell I am on that track. Where am I going? Atop it sits my wishful thought: “Handmade Electronic Music: The Art of Hardware Hacking.”

I should stop writing and just click publish and actually begin.

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