I failed to blog yesterday, for the first time since 2014.
The world didn’t come crashing down.
I didn’t even notice (and I’m sure no one else did either), until this morning.
If I’d failed to blog because I was blowing off writing for the day, that would have been unfortunate, but I failed to blog because I was so engaged with my work in progress that I just forgot.
I forgot to blog, I forgot to take breaks, and I nearly forgot to stop in time to do the afternoon chores and make dinner. This is why I have an alarm set to go off to remind me to pick up the kids after school.
It is a privilege to have the luxury of doing something I love. Something that engages me enough to make me forget everything else. There are many times when I wish for the things I used to have—a real job, a career with a clear trajectory, a regular paycheck. It is good to stop from time to time and appreciate that, though life has taken an unexpected, and frankly, forced, turn, I am incredibly fortunate. I enjoy what I do, most days. It will never pay the bills (hell, at this rate it may never pay for a coffee), but that I can still pursue it is a gift.