I'm sitting here looking at the calendar and it kind of makes me want to throw up. This is the last week of October. The very last week of October. I didn't even carve those pumpkins we put on the porch for Fall decorations. Wait...since I never carved scary faces on them, that means I can leave them out there as Thanksgiving decorations right? Harvest theme? I like to think Martha Stewart would be applauding my decorating ingenuity right now. She may even overlook that one small pot of mums where all the flowers are missing their petals because something ate them. Needless to say that I've let the bathroom remodel consume my month of October. So much so that I didn't realize that November was right around the corner. November should come with a concierge or social secretary because as I look at the calendar, I start to hyperventilate.
November is also National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I knew it was coming up and the idea of it has been tickling the back of my brain, but I haven't said any thing about it. A couple of days ago, Michael said "hey, are you going to do your novel writing thing next month?" and I kind of just stood there gaping at him. First of all, I repeat, I have not said a word about NaNoWriMo since this time last year. Secondly, I didn't even know he was paying attention. Actually, I'm kind of impressed. I honestly thought the only thing on his radar right now was baseball. After I got past the shock of the question, I managed to mumble out something like "I don't know." Because, I really don't know.
I'm kind of in a mood of letting everything fall to shit and just starting over in the New Year. I feel fat and lumpy. Things around the house seem kind of dirty. The garden is an over grown mess. I mowed over tomatoes last week. I know I shouldn't eat the cookies that someone brought into work. I know that there's going to be a bucket of candy sitting in this house Friday night and that I shouldn't sit on the couch and shove miniature candy bars into my face all evening. But I really feel like throwing my hands in the air saying "next year, I'm going to lose 10 lbs! But for now I'm going to be a lazy slob!" That mindset is sort of applying itself to every aspect of my life. Next year, I'm going to work harder on being a better photographer. Next year, I'm going to do better on having activities planned for Cabbage weekends. Next year, I will write more. Next year I will be a better version of myself or the self I am right now.
So...getting myself involved in NaNoWriMo this year doesn't really fall in line with my whole fat lazy slob plan. In fact it's just the opposite of that. It will require me to make time between chores and The Walking Dead for writing and finishing up that stupid memoir I started forever and a day ago. Michael even said that I could just pick up where I left off and I can think of a million excuses for why I can't just pick up where I left off. I am more prepared to get out of doing NaNoWriMo than I am prepared to participate. I am all set and ready to not do this. Except Michael followed up his with questions with "I really think you should." For some strange reason he believes in my writing. He thinks I can write something longer than a blog entry. Part of me wants to laugh at this belief and part of me wants to actually believe he's right.
I guess that means I'm doing this. Maybe I'm doing this because someone else believes in me. Maybe I'm doing this to pull me out of a slump. Maybe I'm doing this as a last ditch effort to salvage the year. Sending out 2014 with an accomplishment. Something other than gaining ten pounds.