I’m a creature of habit, a lover of consistency, an admirer of all things routine. Which is why this past week has been difficult for me.
Dixie, my pit bull mix, had an unexpected yet inevitable and necessary knee surgery last Friday. She had the same painful procedure done three years ago on the left knee, and I was told she’d likely need the right knee done eventually. Though I knew we’d go through this again, it isn’t any less exhausting.
Aside from work, all my time has been devoted to caring for Dixie and stressing over the pain she’s experiencing. I haven’t been sleeping well and I feel the constant, nagging pain of a displaced vertebra from snoozing on the floor and couch to be near her.
So my writing routine—like my running, walking, and reading routine—has been interrupted. I’m not complaining; Dixie is one of the most important parts of my life. She’s family. She’s blood. I’d do anything for her.
But I’m dealing with a noticeable and frustrating change in my writing habits. I tried to draft a new story Monday night, but faced with using the dregs of my creative energy or watching Wicked Tuna (yes, I love that show), I chose to mindlessly binge watch.