I'm a Computer Addict

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

But somehow I don't think doing that much is anywhere near finding a solution. I discovered just how intensely I needed the computer when I couldn't get onto it.

Today after getting hubby and the three oldest out the door, I had a few minutes to fold a load of laundry, get another load going, take a shower (and wash my hair--darn it, I should have done that yesterday; I could have used the time I spent drying it) before getting my preschooler into the bath, dressed, and into the car for a dentist appointment.

While there, I (of course) pulled out my Neo, knowing that this might be the one and only shot I'd get to write today. 45 minutes later, she came out smiling (impressive, since she got some baby cavities filled), and I tucked away the keyboard.

I threw a granola bar and a baggie of fruit snacks at her so she could eat on the way to her buddy's house, where I dropped her off in time to jet over to the Alpine Country Club for the Seagull Book manager's meeting and (YES!) lunch.

The meal was divine, possibly made even better than it would have been by the fact that I was starving (my breakfast having consisted of a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie . . .).

Following lunch, during which time I chatted with store managers and met a talented artist, we retired to the next room, where I got to speak to the managers, helping them get to know me, my work, and especially anything that might help them promote Spires of Stone to their customers.

It's the one and only time my Best of State medal has left my house since I won it; I thought it would be fun to show, since some people have wondered what that consisted of. Yes, it's an actual Olympic-style gold medal. Pretty snarky. It's been neat to hear managers and store employees say that knowing an author has won an award makes customers more willing to give them (me!) a try.

I wish I could have stuck around and heard the other authors, among them my good friend H. B. Moore, Stephanie Fowers, and Sariah Wilson (who I noticed sitting behind me but didn't get a good chance to actually say hi to--HI SARIAH!--since we've never officially met).

After speaking, I rushed back to the car, picked up my cutie preschooler, and hurried to our next stop: the elementary school, for parent-teacher conferences. The great news is that they were both short and to the point: my girls are performing above grade level and are behave like model students. The only complaint? One teacher suggested my 5th grader speak louder. (Not the most common "goal" made at these meetings; usually aren't they, "Please be quieter"?)

Again, we jetted from there to the next place: the junior high, where my poor son had to wait for me to get him since I had been waylaid at the elementary school.

After getting people settled with homework and piano practicing, I practially RAN to the computer. I turned it on, tapping my foot impatiently for it to boot up. I don't know the last time I got to the computer this late in the day. I could practically feel DT's coming on as the email program loaded and for a dreaded second seemed to freeze. (The humanity!)

But I didn't have much time on said computer. I managed to check a few emails and print out what I would be taking to critique group tonight before I had to be Taxi Mom again and run DD10 to orchestra practice. After a few minutes at home transferring the scene I wrote at the dentist's office to the computer and pasting it where it belonged (and updating my word count on the sidebar with the challenge there), I had to pick up said daughter from orchestra.

Now I'm writing this, but I really should be cleaning up the kitchen and making dinner, because my critique group will be descending on the house in hour--and trust me, the kitchen isn't a pretty sight right now.

So why in the world did I feel compelled to spit all this onto the screen this very second? I'm strapped for time, I have lots to do--and GUESTS coming over.

Simple. I'm an addict.

Gotta blog. Gotta e-mail. Gotta write.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get around to vacuuming upstairs like I had hoped to do today . . .

AFTER I get my computer fix.