What's the Worst that Could Happen?

If I don't write, the world won't come to an end.

Will it?

Besides, the laundry needed doing. I'm only finishing the last load this morning because I spent more time on it yesterday than I did on writing. I had the afternoon--and I was planning to write, really--but then I realized I had the whole week's lesson plans to do.

Now that the internet is working on my work computer, I have a mass e-mail to send out. And arts classes to plan. And vendors to e-mail. And I still have to fold the last two loads of laundry. And teach class.

And I'm sure I can think of other things to fill my time with instead of writing. Let's see, there's "take a nap," in case I'm the slightest bit tired. I could also "unload the dishwasher," even though the kids can do that on their own. And "nag kids to do their homework" should take up at least an hour or two. If I don't take the time to nag them, I won't really feel like a mom. I can't write down "paint," though. Too creative. I have to put that at the bottom of the list, along with "sew." Wouldn't want to get any actual MAKING done today. Better to feel the day is a complete scrap.

*sigh*

As long as I put writing at the bottom of the list--along with music, art, and any other creative pursuits--it won't get done. And then I'll never finish a project. And I'll never have to face critics. The pressure will be off.

But I won't be a writer. Or an artist. Or a costume designer.

I guess I better get to work. The REAL work, too. Not sweeping. Not laundry. Writing.