Pottering

Where did July go?
*looks around and peers over shoulder confusedly*
I just spent the last three weeks either
A) sleeping on the floor and spending my days trying to recover feeling in my hands OR
B) unpacking about 100 dusty boxes OR
C) finding a place for the plethora of books, video/dvds and clothing that I seem to own
*hangs head in shame*
OR
D) arguing with the moving company who were booked months ago but nonetheless who picked us up late, dropped us off late and managed to crush my mattress, break my mexican day of the dead figurines, and lose my favorite art deco standing lamp.
*forms will be filled out*

My house is looking very nice. We are having it painted whipple blue (after blogger extraordinaire Natalie Whipple ) and colonial cream (oo lala).
Here is a picture:

I have been busy…
and yet now that it is (mostly) done, I am still pottering around.
Nothing to do with (insert pic of HP)

or even of (insert pic of Hogwarts world)

a place i would dearly love to visit. Indeed I would risk exposure to dancing teacups and overly made-up silicone princesses to go there.

One reason is that both my kids are home and underfoot.
(Insert pic of two cute small kids not of my loins)

One 7 year old and one 3 year old = lots of bickering
lots of bickering + hot weather= not much more than pottering about.

AND my parents are coming tomorrow!
(insert pic of stern parental types from whose loins I did not come)

I HAVE 4 CHAPTERS OF A WIP COMPLETED AND THE REST OF THE TALE BEGS TO BE TOLD
Sorry for yelling but I am trying to remind myself of this fact and also spur my a** into gear.

But my head is not in the right space.
My head feels like this
(insert pic of a tuber)

I am spending a certain amount of each day while I potter (today I made bread, and a delicious thai-style coleslaw for dinner) thinking about how I really should get back to writing, and a certain amount of the day castigating myself (something I do quite often) so therefore I am sort of, kind of, lightly delving into it. Right?
I mean that counts, doesnt it?!
Thinking about how I really should be working but am not must give me at least 1.5 points (tabulated by the great gods of writing) towards eventual completion of said WIP.
I believe that I need to accumulate at least 46,838,937 SBT( sweat, blood and tears) points before I can send it to my agent.
Ill get cracking right after I post this blog and have a slice of fresh-baked bread with butter and black currant jam. Oh, and take the 3 year old to the park.
Right after that. Yup.