Well, I’m here and it’s my day off. You’d think I could do whatever I wanted today, but I have joined the adult crowd of working people who try to jam a week’s worth of inconsequential errands into one day.

What does that mean for my poor little cat book, the one that stands edited three times and is one more edit away from being polished? This is the one that was so important to me that I started crying when I finally sat in front of a potential publisher and I hadn’t honed the answer to the question about why the book was so important to me. At that moment, it welled up inside me, the whole truth about how I am broken in the same way my little cat is broken and that’s why I wrote the book. I couldn’t just tell the potential publisher without having all that love rush up to my eyeballs and spill out.

Yeah, it ruined the interview. You’d think that passion would help, but no one wants to work with someone who cries. I still haven’t recovered in terms of my marketing strategy.

I’ll admit that marketing is daunting. Marketing is so daunting that I just now sat at this computer and played Solitaire for five minutes before writing anything more. I try to pretend writing books isn’t important to me. I try, but then I get a desperate feeling at the pit of my stomach as if my reason for breathing has suddenly been at question.

I was going to make some lame analogy about finding out your engagement ring isn’t gold and diamonds but cubic zirconium and a metal that leaves a green ring around your finger.

But if Mike had given me a ring like that, I would have laughed and given him grief about it for twenty seven years while we made our toast and tea in the kitchen in the morning. Twenty-seven years and it still would have been funny.

Yes, next week we will have been married for twenty-seven years. Rings and jewelry are not on our radar. I want more time as an anniversary present and he isn’t going anywhere. The rest of my time-management problems aren’t something he can do much about. He works full time and then some and I work part time, so I’m the one who walks the dog and shops for groceries. I’m the primary cook and cleaner too, but he helps some with that. I can’t complain.

I do complain, but I shouldn’t.

So, about the cat book. Yesterday, I had a conversation with one of my students. Periodically, I’m supposed to lecture them about finishing what you start, about having a good attitude, and generally doing your best. Yesterday, I sat with this bright little girl and realized that she didn’t need any lectures. So, knowing that I’ve got this book that’s practically finished but not quite, I asked her what I should do to make myself finish. She said I should do one small thing, then another small thing, then another. She said if I did that, it would get done.

I plan to finish my cat book when I get that week off before school starts so I can really focus. I just need a week of not working to do it. I just need time to think it through.

But will I be able to focus the week after my boy has gone off to college? Will I? Will I really? Or will I sit at my desk with tears in my eyes and wonder what my boy is doing right at that moment? I could imagine moping around for a month or two just trying to get used to the new silence in the house. And the lack of Nick’s specific energy. That boy vibrates the air when he walks through the room.

So, I’d better get busy before he leaves. I’d better do one small thing today. One. Then, tomorrow, I should do one more small thing. I promised you a new book. It’s a book that means something to me. It’s a book about a kitten and his fears. It’s a book about a woman and hers. I’ll get right on that…

…as soon as I get a little caught up on my errands.

Thank you for listening, jules