Manic Monday: Where’d You Go, Lily?

I took a hiatus from blogging, but the hiatus was taken without any planning on my part. To be specific, it was a forced hiatus. By which I mean outside force conspired to make blogging go kaput.

On the plus side, I got a job at a law firm. I have been working on my paralegal certification for the past year, so this was the natural culmination of that goal. I’d love to stay at home and write, but writing takes time. Royalties show up but twice a year; advances come at the whim of an editor. Most of my writing friends have day jobs. Plus there is a feeling of needing something to “fall back on.” My grandfather, who grew up during the Depression, felt that everyone should be certified in some profession. He always preached the benefit of having both a real estate license and a teaching certificate. But I figured that lawsuits are evergreen–this is a profession that will never die, and hence, the paralegal certification.

The problem is that I am having to adjust to life in a cubicle farm, and my family is having to adjust with me. After years of being a work at home mom, I am finding myself at the beck and call of another entity away from my daughter and husband. Our Internet at work is blocked by a firewall; my cell phone gets zero reception at my desk. So the friendly days of writing and chatting with friends, or checking in throughout the day with my husband, are now restricted to a few moments’ break, taken when I can have 10 minutes outside.

This also means that my family is having to adjust to me not being home all the time. As a consequence, I am not home to take care of little errands, school meetings, pet care, and housecleaning. You can only imagine the chaos that has ensued. My husband has done an admirable job of stepping up and handling the bulk of the errands and school appointments. But really, nothing can compare to having one person home during the day to handle the running of a household. This is a huge adjustment for me to handle, because I feel a gnawing sense of guilt when I see a pile of unfolded laundry, a stack of dishes, or an unswept floor.

I’ve been having to get used to someone else’s time table; the often petty and small-minded conversation of my colleagues (which cube life seems to foster) and the stress of commuting during traffic. None of this is new; none of this is special to anyone reading this blog; but when you’ve been at home for 6 years, it’s the equivalent of being dropped down a rabbit hole.

The problem is that most of this took place during a month in which my second book was released. I did more social media for The Temporary Betrothal than I ever did for Captain of Her Heart, but even that was, I am sure, not enough. I can’t help it. I hate book-flogging. I am no saleswoman; I am a writer. Poor Harriet! Poor Sophie! I will write your adventures, but I just can’t endlessly tweet about them.

On the plus side, the job is steady, the house will get clean, the stress will even out, and the writing will continue. As I type this blog, it’s actually Saturday morning. My daughter’s dogs are wrestling on the floor, my coffee is cooling beside me, and my daughter is still sleeping. My husband is taking his morning shower; soon we’ll get to spend the day together as a family. Working outside the home has taught me to make use of the moments I have and thus, my blogging will continue after this brief hiatus. There’s just too many cute modest dresses to swoon over, and too many Frugal Fridays to blog about!

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