Full House

Although I'm living in a full house again (daughter home from college, son still at home, wife working long hours) I'm discovering that each of us lives in our own cells.  Even during the "down times" it's rare to find the four of us sitting together for a meal, enjoying a movie, or playing a board game. (Though sometimes this still happens!) 

Take Sunday, for instance.

Although the four of us were in the house and Elvis had not yet left the building, each of us lost track of time.  My daughter was working on lesson plans for the upcoming week of her student teaching; my son was writing homework (so he says); and my wife was writing her principal performance reviews for teachers.

Me? I was on the couch writing on a laptop.  I began at 2 p.m., and when next I glanced at the time, it was 10 p.m.  I'd been writing for eight consecutive hours.   If I took a potty break, I can't remember it.  And if I had sustenance and drink, I can't recall what it was.

And what did I accomplish in this foray?  I wasn't sure at the time, but as I note my "recent documents" file I see that I produced three essays of some length (one, a humorous interplay of words about Latin abbreviations and their English equivalents, is actually funnier than it sounds).  I also wrote four poems, a one-page article proposal, and two book reviews--in addition to reading the two books.

All-in-all I can't complain.  Full house or not, I figure between my wife, my daughter and my son--all of whom were, supposedly writing on Sunday--we produced over 12,000 words in an afternoon.

Not bad for a family at rest.  I guess that's our new version of a full house.