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My friend has a plaque in her kitchen: “A clean house is a sign of a wasted life.”<\/strong><\/p>\n Is there a corollary that says a dirty house is a sign of an unwasted life? I’m not sure. All I know is that I’ve now proven to myself indisputably that a clean house and concentrated writing projects are 100% incompatible. While I did edits over the past two weeks, things really got away from me. When I have to wear socks to cross the kitchen floor to protect my feet from the stickiness of five stealth batches of red Kool-Aid that was spilled, it’s time to re-up my efforts.<\/p>\n Here’s another question. The old adage says there’s no sense in crying over spilt milk. But sometimes it seems there’s sense in crying over spilled Tropical Punch Kool-Aid. My poor grey-blue<\/a> rug is now purple-patchy due to the blending of the food coloring into its fibers.<\/p>\n I think I need to refocus for a day or two–before I go back into my writing cave again. Maybe I can strike a balance where I write for a couple of days and recover the house for a couple of days. Or maybe instead I could strike it rich with a bestselling novel and then hire a housekeeper! Oh, and someone to pull those weeds. I haven’t even dared look out the back window for fear I’ll see Mowgli<\/a>.<\/p>\n But I just got a great idea–maybe I’ll write it now and clean…tomorrow.<\/a><\/p>\n (Oh, and here’s a link where you can get the plaque\/poster for your very own kitchen:<\/p>\n