Well, maybe that’s not fair. I have work to do but I find that it is far more fun to tweet with my friends (I’m alisonjherzog, btw, if you care), chat online, and read posts ranging from real news to people.com “news.”
You see, I have a baby. What does that mean? I no longer own my own time. By the time Sir Zog comes home to give me a break, my “break” consists of getting paid work done, folding laundry, cleaning up from the day, cooking, cleaning up from cooking, feeding Baby Zog, and retiring to bed. Oh, and possibly working again after putting Baby Zog to sleep. Sir Zog asked me if I’d heat up a few hot dogs for him when he got home from work today and had just relieved me of my 20 lb. sack of squirms. I laughed. Because – I truly realized – my time will never be mine ever again.
This isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a thing. So, when it’s 11:38 pm at night, and I should be working, it’s easy to find myself drifting down other paths. Call it procrastination. I call it breathing for a moment. Or, being a busy momma with a sense of self.