This past weekend, somewhere between the house cleaning, the hair-twisting tooth-pulling (i.e., writing), the crawfish, and the general aches and pains, I realized that I love my life.
I mean. I REALLY love my life.
Sure, I could do with a maid that appeared when I snapped my fingers, a bit more financial security, and a bit less 9-5, but I REALLY do love my life.
I don’t know the last time that I felt that. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that.
It’s a Lloyd Dobler-holding-a-boom-box kind of love, and I serenaded it with family and sunshine and splurging on some really, really good crawfish.
I love it so much that I actually canceled Netflix. It’s probably temporary, and yes, I’ve already seen this season of House of Cards (as evidenced by a higher water bill from all of the showers I had to take to rinse the slime off). It’s not even about the $8 a month, because really, it’s one of the most affordable forms of pre-packaged entertainment available. I am watching my pennies (well, except for crawfish because, well, because crawfish), but that’s not it at all.
I’m changing my routine. It’s almost—but not quite—automatic. I played a Marvel Avengers game for a couple of years up until about a month ago. That left more time for writing, and now the lack of Netflix will add more time for writing, too. It wasn’t a struggle to let go, surprisingly. It was more like “Huh. I could do that.” And did it. No fuss, no muss, no clinging.
It’s not that I don’t love Netflix. I do love Netflix. My priorities have just rearranged, almost without my really doing anything.
I’m making a push. It’s still slow-going with the constant self-edits, but it’s moving. And I want to get the draft finished as soon as possible. When it’s done, I want to sit on it a couple of months, play around with a couple of shorts I have started, and do an all-over-edit from beginning to end.
And move forward.
With the chapter I’m writing now, nearly double the word count of any other chapter, I find it’s transforming into something. Something delicious. Something that seems to take on a life of its own. A simple phrase change set in motion an entire chapter, an idea for more material earlier in the draft. It’s meatier. And something I can’t quite explain.
And this is the part where I realize I’ve changed from loving the finished product to loving the process.
I know that not all moments will be like this. I know all weekends will not be as absolutely perfect as this one.
I’m just loving the hell out of now.