Spring has Sprung
According to the weather guy, the last time we had a day where temperatures reached the mid seventies was mid October. Six months. No wonder I’ve been crabby.
But today the sun is shining and I’ve broken out the short-sleeves from their winter hibernation. The neighbor is mowing his lawn. Yesterday, I washed my bedspread (sometime during the long winter, Skye had barfed on it) and hung it out to dry. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the smell of anything dried in the spring air.
Someone should bottle April-fresh, line-dried laundry smell and fresh-cut grass aroma and sell it for perfume. I’d buy it.
The conference has kept me busy all week. Twenty-seven days until it begins. More importantly, twenty-nine until it’s over and I can once again be a full-time, productive writer. My characters are kicking around inside my head, demanding to be heard, and I’ve had to tell them to cool it for the last couple of weeks. They aren’t happy.
I think, however, that I may be in the midst of a brief (eye of the hurricane) lull. Yesterday was the deadline for early bird registration. From now on, all procrastinators will have to pay an additional $20. So all the CHEAP procrastinators were flooding me with registrations, right up until midnight. Today? Nothing.
I give it maybe a week and then the true procrastinators who don’t give a darn about spending that late fee will start a panicked frenzy to sign up.
I’m not picking on you if you’re one of those. Sometimes you just don’t know what life is going to throw at you, so you wait to see if you’re going to be able to do what you want. Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.
Well, enough rambling for now. I’m taking advantage of the pause in conference hysteria and heading outdoors into the sunshine.
But today the sun is shining and I’ve broken out the short-sleeves from their winter hibernation. The neighbor is mowing his lawn. Yesterday, I washed my bedspread (sometime during the long winter, Skye had barfed on it) and hung it out to dry. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the smell of anything dried in the spring air.
Someone should bottle April-fresh, line-dried laundry smell and fresh-cut grass aroma and sell it for perfume. I’d buy it.
The conference has kept me busy all week. Twenty-seven days until it begins. More importantly, twenty-nine until it’s over and I can once again be a full-time, productive writer. My characters are kicking around inside my head, demanding to be heard, and I’ve had to tell them to cool it for the last couple of weeks. They aren’t happy.
I think, however, that I may be in the midst of a brief (eye of the hurricane) lull. Yesterday was the deadline for early bird registration. From now on, all procrastinators will have to pay an additional $20. So all the CHEAP procrastinators were flooding me with registrations, right up until midnight. Today? Nothing.
I give it maybe a week and then the true procrastinators who don’t give a darn about spending that late fee will start a panicked frenzy to sign up.
I’m not picking on you if you’re one of those. Sometimes you just don’t know what life is going to throw at you, so you wait to see if you’re going to be able to do what you want. Been there. Done that. Got the t-shirt.
Well, enough rambling for now. I’m taking advantage of the pause in conference hysteria and heading outdoors into the sunshine.
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