It’s been a different sort of month, so far. Trips to the Chiropractor, three mornings a week, have dramatically impacted my “free” time. I generally leave for work between 9:15 and 9:30. My appointment is at 9, that’s the only way I’ll make it to work on time—but it means I need to leave home by 8:30.

It’s an important hour.

In order to maintain my morning writing routine, I would have to get up by 4am. And I can’t do that, because I work until 8pm, most days. It’s been a conundrum. I have one more week of three-times-a-week.

And then my trip to The Porches. One week in the company of just writers, doing writerly things.

I haven’t finished the books we plan to discuss on the retreat—and that’s the upside of going to the chiropractor 3 times a week; I use the decompression machine for 15 minutes each visit. So, while I lose writing time, I gain 45 minutes reading time each day.

It worries me that my time management is delineated like that. In minutes. It’s like that at work too. I feel like I am always watching the clock, anticipating the next thing to be done. And between my regular duties (teaching, talking to parents, scheduling teachers, students, meetings with parents, payroll, emails, troubleshooting, conferences with my bosses, visiting schools, talking to local merchants, etc.) I am juggling the move. So we have added to my daily list of duties (at ten hours a day) reviewing floor plans, discussing light fixtures, door and paint schedules, signage, banners… Floor plans could be a full-time job. I am grateful for the amazing staff of women who work for me—or I would have collapsed long ago. I could write novels about each and every part of my job. Mostly good–but the not so good is completely debilitating, it creates rancor.

I will be glad when the move is done, when the chiropractor isn’t eating all of my free time. My plate is overfull and there are not enough hours in the day for me to add anything else.

I need a vacation.

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