I am going to be in big trouble.

I meant to blog every day ... but then I didn't. 
     I'm supposed to write for 30 minutes a day ... it's been more like 30 minutes a week.
     I was supposed to do a lot of reading before tomorrow's class ... didn't do that either. Well, I finished To Kill a Mockingbird. That was enjoyable. 
     I hate disappointing people, and I really like my writing professor, so it'll be hard to make excuses tomorrow. "I had a total breakdown" doesn't really matter to her--she'd say I should have funneled the pain into the written word. 
     I really did break down a little. I've been stretched so far this summer, I eventually had to snap and sit there in a little pile of overstretched rubber, lazing around and such. (Metaphors are not my thing, really.)
     Next week, I start French class on Mondays and Wednesdays, with my copyediting class on Tuesdays. I'll need to grade papers this weekend. First, I'm seeing a play and having dinner with my totally neglected husband. I wish I were more devoted to writing right now, but I have other things to take care of. Like my real job, my relationships, and my mental health. Sometimes I just need to sit around and talk to my cat, you know?