I have come to the rather liberating realization that I cannot have both toned arms and a finished novel.
Not if I also want to have a full-time job, kids who know who their mother is, an in-tact marriage and a few hours of sleep thrown in. You just can’t do it all.
Well, maybe you can, but I can’t.
And I need to stop beating myself up about that. I need to spend less time feeling bad about the things I’m not fitting onto my To Do list and more time being content with all that I do get done.
So, this summer, the first draft of my book will be finished and my arms shall remain flabby and I’m okay with that.