So what am I doing, writing here. What should I be doing, using the treadmill. I am sitting on the couch in running gear not wanting to get on the treadmill. I was all set until I found out Grey's wasn't on last night and I have nothing to watch.

Yes, I am a Grey's fan, I can't help it Shonda and her crew spin some pretty terrific tales. I often wonder what it would be like to be on a writing team. I think I would enjoy creating characters. It was the part of acting I liked although I wasn't great on improve, dialog wasn't my specialty, but boy was I good at building back story. I could take the smallest part and build an entire timeline to flesh out the character. Even beefy parts still take some working if you want to create a real person. The lines tell only part of the story. The rest of the story lives in the subtext. I think I may have talked about that before (I have probably talked about everything before, lets face as we get older we tend to repeat ourselves) but it still fascinates me even though it's been, hmm lets see, 15 years since I set foot on a stage. How very far away that part of my life seems.

Anyway, the subtext is part writer, part actor and Grey's is a collection of the best of both of those worlds.

But back to my not running on the treadmill. Without something to watch I have to admit I am not finding it in myself to get up on the thing. And time doesn't stand still of course. Even as I type away (noisily, or so My Darling claims) I can see any free time slipping away. Soon there will be getting ready for preschool, thrift store shopping (hopefully) and then home to fixing dinner and also hopefully movie night if My Darling isn't too tired. (I have to remember to tell you about the marathon stuff, not right no though, not enough time.) Where was I, oh yes, not enough time to run. Oh, and I haven't mentioned the state of my kitchen. I have slacked off so badly that although the dishes are rinsed and ready for the dishwasher said dishwasher is still full of clean dishes and the pots and pans from not one but two dinners are waiting patiently for me to clean them. I have wasted away any treadmill time I might have stolen, on the internet and here after all my good intentions when I got out of bed.

I'm sure you are picturing a disaster of a kitchen and you would not be wrong, it's embarrassing really. My house never seems to be in strict enough order and I have no one to blame but myself. It's not truly that there is no time. Instead the time is wasted away, just like this morning or (like last night) lounged away (what can I say, I made dinner, I didn't want to spend another hour in the kitchen cleaning up). Call me lazy if you want.

Oh and the waiting thing is still no fun. Can't make plans, can't think about the future one way or the other and plans must be made, deadlines approach and what wouldn't be a problem in one outcome might be a real problem in another.

Ack.

Ok, that's it, no treadmill but the kitchen will be cleaned.

Really, any minute now.

Honestly, I'm going.

*sigh*

I wish you Peace

~alison~

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