Summer is fast approaching. I usually love summer, but this year there's a sense of excited dread for me. I wanted to be done writing my book before the kids were out of school. But, their long summer starts tomorrow. So, I'm short on time and won't be done. So, all summer I'll be juggling the kids with my incessant urge to write for hours on end with only one shared computer in the house. Wearing my writing sweater.
|This photo doesn't do this sweater justice.|
But, there's a problem. Actually there's several. As we head closer to June, it's getting progressively hotter. Too hot to wear a sweater in my house, which doesn't have air conditioning. Or to wear it while taking Bonnie and Clyde out for their mid-day walk. The pockets are a perfect storage compartment for their empty poop bags, my phone and keys. Summer means either sweating it out or taking off my sweater. The one that's slowly starting to unravel from overuse and abuse. There's pricks and pills and a huge gaping hole under my armpit. My sweater is getting destroyed!
What am I going to do? Can I write without my writing sweater? Will my inspiration dry up? And will I ever stop singing Weezer's The Sweater Song in my head? At least I know I'll have a song to sing at its funeral when the day comes. Which I'm hoping isn't for a long, long time.
And which will unravel first over the summer? My sweater or my nerves?