Welcome to March 2007, when all of you who have booked a surprise vacation for April are suddenly faced with finishing every last thing on your plate before you go. Oh. Not everyone? Just me? Okay then.

I’m very excited about my vacation, because I’ll be going back the mother land (with my mother!). It’ll probably be the last time I’ll bother going back to Hull, East Yorkshire, unless I someday take Mike to see where my family used to live. Otherwise, I imagine future trips to England will involve different stops of different kinds, mostly involving little out-of-the-way pubs and fish and chips. Oh, and definitely the pasty shop in York.

So I’m excited, but I have a ton of stuff to do before I can go. Like, a TON. I don’t know how this happened. Things were evening out a little bit, but now that I’m taking two weeks right smack-dab in the middle of everything, things are gettng pushed forward. They never get pushed back. So March is Superwoman Month.

I don’t feel bad about it, though. It’s kind of odd, really. Maybe I’m rounding a corner in this whole “being self employed” thing, and beginning to understand that it’s never going to matter, I am always going to have to move thing around in order to take time off. I hope that’s what it is, anyway, and I’m not just flat-out in denial. It may be a bit of both.

What does one do when faced with 30 days of unrelenting work? Get excited about working on her novel, of course.

I don’t know why this happens, either, but it invariably does. The busier I am, the more the creative juices want to flow. It’s perhaps because I spent some time reading over a friend’s draft, and I started to realize that my book was not going to write itself. Maybe it’s just that the NHL has sucked lately, and I’ve needed something to do besides stare blindly at the screen and wonder why I ever started to like hockey in the first place. Maybe it’s because this year I’m going to hit 35, and it’s about time I got off my lazy ass and crossed a couple of things off my to-do list.

Maybe it’s all those things, put together. Whatever it is, I’m sure my neck is going to hate me for it by April 9, and I’m sure I’ll never have earned a vacation like I’ve earned this one before.