I don't think I've heard the words, "Get back to work," since I was 16 years old and I worked at Sunny's Restaurant. That directive was most frequently hollered my way when I was trying to avoid washing a drum of frozen, bloodied chicken wings. I want to wretch just thinking about it. Well now I'm saying it to myself. I've procrastinated enough and I refuse to let 2006 go down in the history as the worst year of my life. I won't use anymore lame excuses to avoid working: my kid's in the hospital, I fell down the stairs, I had a baby, my kid's in the hospital again, my husband was hit by a car while riding his bike. Wah. I want this year to be a year of good stuff too: I had a baby, I started to work--again.
Besides, my whole tag line was beginning to seem a little far-fetched and off-kilter: "Driving to playgroup, but driven to work." Not! Yes, I've been driving to playgroup and the museum and friends' houses and to the store, but work? Um, I think my position was downsized and I was escorted out of the building after I handed over my badge. Then as I drove home, I realized I was left with nothing but diaper duty and a longing.
Enough, I say!
I'm not going to an office or to a punch-clock or to lunches with coworkers. I'm writing my book, the book that's been floating around my thoughts for months, years. There, I've said it. And now I will do it. I even put my glasses on for other purposes than looking the smart-girl part while out on the town. I've done actual research. And I am setting goals and deadlines. It feels good. Sure I'm on the honeymoon, but I plan to ride it out until my loins and my brain are sore. And then hopefully I'll keep going. Because that's what you do if you want to succeed, if you have drive. And I'm driven, even if my drive was on hiatus for a bit. So MIC, "Get back to work!"