Gogo is my laptop.

That is, in theory, he has been my laptop. In practice, he is our laptop, which is a wholly different thing. Frequently, Shannon uses him. While, at any time, I am free to say “I feel I should write”, or even “I want to knob about on line” and Shannon will cheerfully give him up to me, I am not good at this. “This” being saying that I want something in direct conflict with someone else who wants something else.

Not a Shannon problem. A Scott problem. “Grow up” is the advice I’ve got for me, but it’s a slow job to finish, and frequently it becomes the excuse reason that I don’t get much done, email answered, lj posted. Then I dislike me for not doing what I want to do, and for wanting something that is against my duty, that duty being the self sacrifice of every thing I can think of for no good purpose when it isn’t needed.

Ah. I was saying something.

Oh, right.

Today, we procured another laptop. Shannon has hers, and is having a very nice time with it.

And I. I have mine. Mine.

Unfortunately, I seem to have mislaid my excuse to not write. Now what will I do?

No, not that kind. Freaks.

At the behest of Lisa, who knows all things, I have just submitted Sight Unseen (1,300 words of psych. horror) for professional consideration. And, in a professional sort of way, I documented where and when I submitted it, because we professionals are all about documentation.

And now, bed.

Saturday was being nice to my darlin’. She was especially wonderful this last week, and I was happy to do it. There was fluff and dye and all sorts of things. Sunday was being nice to us, doing couple-y things and I like us so I’m good with that, too. Today was supposed to be dealing with housework and chores and stupid things that have to be done, and somewhere in there we would take me to a coffee shop to write and to a movie.

Oops.

Life happened, and I got my darlin’ sick, so instead I did housework and cooked several times and did more housework and will, in the end, have done housework and cooked. I really want to be grumpy about it, but it’s just the way life is and nothing’s to be done and that doesn’t change that I really want to be grumpy. So instead I’m tired from keeping my balance all day, which at least means that I can sleep tonight.

As soon as the kitchen is clean and the laundry is done.

For weeks and weeks and, I think, weeks, Shannon & I have had no crisis. The pace to which we had become accustomed has broken stride, and we would have stumbled. Fortunately, there were others nearby, and they had crisis to some degree and could lend us a cup or two.

Not much of a crisis, mind you; just something that extra hands would do well for. We had extra hands and are good neighbors. Crisis navigated, life goes on, but Shannon and I still lack for crisis of our own…but there are kids, there are relatives of varying degree and description, there are friends of friends in need, and our hands have no crisis of our own, so –

At some point recently I became somewhat grumpy. I couldn’t put my finger to just why. Then my son’s life had a fairly major blow-up at the same time that the in-laws irrigation system had a fairly major blow-up, and we dropped everything and drove south to tend to both issues. The week following was out of kilter; the laundry was undone, the kitchen fouled with a week’s accumulation (we do dishes, but there are deep-cleaning things that wait for the weekend), the garden was untended, the writing not done, the yoga not practiced.

Shannon, stepping carefully next to me as we picked our way through our own untended chores, noted “I want to live my life for a while instead of everyone else’s.”

Bingo. The source of my grumpiness.

This weekend we tended us. We walked through gardens, we played with fluff (well, Shannon played with fluff), I will write, we yogged, laundry is even now in the doing, the kitchen is all a-soak, and there is a steak marinating while a soup steams on the stove. Later, I think, there will be an Indy or a Caspian.

OUR weekend.

Just right. Smart wife. I wish she’s said it earlier.

Time to go to Schreiner’s. A wonderfully pleasant day of bumping shoulders, holding hands, and making gooey eyes at one another is in the offing.

Writing is Hard, but I don’t have a Let’s Go Shopping icon.

*sigh* I guess I have to go write.

*plods off to coffee shop*