This is less of an "I'm sorry I don't post more often, I suck" thing and more of an "I need to get in the habit of writing more and this checks that box while also updating you on a current situation" thing, but I still feel guilty about not blogging more often because I want to be a Proper Author and if I can't even blog on a regular schedule then how can I ever finish my book and
wharrgarrrrblllll.
Sorry about that. Sometimes the brain weasels get loose. Anyway...
I have a Metric Buttload of stuff to do for Operation Blazing Sword - Pink Pistols that I'm having trouble even starting. Some of that is Impossible Task syndrome, but most of it is just being under a lot of stress from being pulled in a bunch of different directions, and just about anything which requires significant mental effort (like writing) gets pushed to the back unless it's a task which is metaphorically on fire and needs to be put out immediately.
On that note, I desperately need an assistant who is good with words to help me with OBS-PP stuff. As an example: "Please make an email which says X, Y, and Z. It doesn't need to be perfect, because it takes less mental energy for me to edit it than it is for me to start it. Just help me get started, please." Unfortunately, I don't have the money to pay for this help (hell, I don't get paid for what I do), so I'd need someone willing to volunteer their time and energy for a cause they believe in.
"Erin, if you can write this blog post, can't you do OBS stuff?" Theoretically yes, which I often beat myself up for, but really no, because this is just me babbling into a text box and not caring how professional it looks because this is casual and informal whereas proper OBS stuff needs to look professional and communicate effectively. Going to the mailbox & back and going for a mile hike are both technically walking, but one is drastically more effort than the other.
In addition to the things I've talked about before -- the health of my pupper Daisy, looking after my now-83 year old mother, the financial mess my father got us in because of his dementia, a hurricane that tore Florida a new butthole -- a big time sink is my father's bedroom. I have an old post about it either here or at Blue Collar Prepping, but the short version is that dad hoarded stuff and his bedroom was basically a collection of piles with a narrow path through them. For the past year or so I've been going through it all in the hopes that once I clear out his room I can move in there.
Part of what's slowing me down is that there are things I am reluctant to just throw away, either because I hate throwing away things like books and collectibles and/or because I hope I can maybe get some money for them. However... [gestures at economy since 2020]... yeah. There's a lot of it, and it's slow going. If I want to sell this stuff then I have to catalog it (time), photograph it (time and work), research how much it might be worth (time and work), actually try to sell the stuff (work to the power of "a lot"), mail the stuff (ugh, put on pants and deal with people), and so forth. And until I get this stuff moved out, I can't move in, and because there's so much of it I can't just move it all into another room temporarily so I can move in, because it will basically render that room unusable and the only room we aren't using is... his bedroom.
Ideally one of my dear readers has an aptitude for selling online and will auction these off for me in exchange for 20% of the profits, but I'm not going to hold my breath on that one.
I feel like there's something I'm missing, but I can't think of it right now, and I've probably... OK, how do I do this without engaging in negative self-talk?... I've vented and feel somewhat better for that, and I've done something moderately creative and I feel good about that and I can check it off my list, so I'm going to close for now and hope that my next blog post will be sooner instead of later.
Goodnight, America, wherever you are.
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