On Vacation?

We’re back from our spur-of-the-moment trip to the Allegheny National Forest. We spent two days doing as close to nothing as is humanly possible and still retain vital signs. Of course, I kept thinking about all the work that I should have been doing back home.

I did collect a couple of ideas for short stories. Now I just need the time to write them.

Today is a work day. I have a private yoga class this morning, things to address for next year’s Pennwriters Conference and a blog for Working Stiffs to write this afternoon, and a Pennwriters meeting during which I am helping to present a talk on research this evening. Do you see any time in there for working on my manuscript? Or one of those short stories? Or even one of the queries I want to send out for a couple of potential articles I have in mind? No? I don’t either.

Technically, I’m “on vacation.” So is hubby. By “on vacation” I mean that the yoga studio is closed (my class this morning is with a private student). We feel compelled to do vacation-type things. Like this past weekend’s foray into the mountains. But I love to write. I jump out of bed early each morning because of the promise of time to create. In my fantasies, I envision a week of vacation time as extra time to write. Of course, I also like to do things like go horseback riding or take a day and escape to Ohiopyle. I’m having a difficult time finding a balance to those wishes.

Perhaps it’s a time-management issue. Perhaps I attempt to cram too much into too little time.

Ah, well. Today there is no issue. I know exactly what has to be done and when. There will be no horse or bike riding. There will be no work on the manuscript. But tomorrow is another day. And if the rain holds off, I have high hopes of hitting the trails on Admiral. And since I’m “on vacation,” perhaps I’ll find some time to write, too.

Is eternal optimism a type of mental illness? Like being delusional? I’m beginning to wonder.