Me, Waxing Pathetic

I don't think I've written a word since Sunday.

I just make a conscious decision each evening to ignore the novel in favor of (insert one of the following: homework, hanging out with my son, shopping, talking on the phone, watching television, sleeping.) As I was reminded a few days ago, there is still plenty of time left in November. But looking at everyone's word count still makes me feel awful.

I've had a lot of feeling awful this week. Yesterday, the anniversary of mom's passing, I was in a huge funk. It was also a full moon. And I was offered, and turned down, a really great job transfer to a full time job I would have loved. My husband nixed it, saying he really didn't want our family to have to go through the sacrifice of my working full time unless and until his job really did go away, and then only for much more money than was offered. I was just trying to be prepared. I felt awful saying "No, thanks" and that along with all the other stuff made for a pretty lousy day overall. Bleh.

I felt much better this morning when I woke up (and the moon had waned.) I have a big homework assignment due tomorrow in my Creative Writing class, and a big headache, too, but I'm going to go to a NaNoWriMo write in anyway because, hey, I'm committed. (Or should be.)