Motor-vation in The Tightrope Dance (August 2019)

I am stuck in a dilemma right now - don’t freak, it’s small - do I want to:
-clean the bathroom (without help)
-start dinner (without help)
-wash my hair (obviously without help)
-head out to Wal-Mart, snag a box of soda, and write for three hours (don’t need help!)

See, I’m not the only person using the jakes. There’s six more people here. But if I go clean it, which it sorely needs, I will be doing it alone. No one will notice or care or say thank you. So I don’t want to do it alone. It’s not fun, and it’s not fair, and it’s not going to happen that way. Except it’s gross in there and I need it to not be gross.

Dilemma.

Dinner - well, it’s going in the crockpot. You know, I’ll go do that one free.

Except it became a problem. Dick Face opened both bags of chicken to make Wrong Sweet and Sour chicken, leaving me one breast in one bag and three in the other and a couple in another bag that was meant for They Do Not Like Dinners. Fuck you, Dick Face.

I put spinach in it. Because Dick Face.

Hair’s dirty. I don’t feel like looking at the upstairs jakes, either. Do I want to go stand around in my daughters’ discarded clothing? No not really.

And I’m out of caffeine, and I can write at the Subway in the lobby. Done that before. Tons of good smut there.

(I only seem to write smut this summer.)(I really miss sex, I do not think this is a coincidence.)

Okay, so dinner only needs Pot of Rice and some stirring and chopping. I can do that later.

Maybe I’ll get over myself and clean the bog tonight. And maybe I won’t.

But I’m going to head out and write at that Subway now. I want to write. I want to walk around Wally World. I definitely want caffeine.