Today, I found the garbage cart that I had requested from maintenance waiting by my office door when I got to school. Feeling a ridiculous amount of delight at the idea of tossing things out, I rushed into my office and plunged in. Tomorrow's I'll continue the process. I already can see my desk top and my overburdened bookcases are tidier. For at least a few weeks, I'll feel in control of my space. I'll know what I have and where to find it.
In her post on Wednesday, Barbara wrote about regretting the end of summer. So do I. Not because I particularly enjoy summer. I am much more attuned to autumn -- lovely crisp days and cuddle up in blanket nights -- than to summer's heat and humidity. But when summer ends, I feel sad. I realize that my late spring resolution to finish every thing on my to-do list during my three months of vacation is not going to be fulfilled this year either. In summer -- despite my best intentions -- I find it almost impossible to stick to a schedule. I seem to spend the days being distracted by minor tasks that take up much more time than they should.
So I welcome the feeling of being back in my groove. I do better with structure. The only problem that I haven't figured out is how to add minutes to shorter autumn days.
My schedule this fall is built around my teaching schedule. I plan to drive to Toronto for Bouchercon in October. I'm on a panel there. In November, I'm going to New England Crime Bake, where I'm going to teach a master class on "Using Research to Get to the Roots of Your Book". I have a short story coming out in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine that same month. A historical featuring a new protagonist. And I have also promised myself that I will do NaNoWriMo and get the first draft of my 1939 historical thriller done.
I'm looking forward to what I hope to get done this new year -- in that magical time before the year ends and winter sets in.
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