One of these days, I’m going to get an intern.
If real life was anything like Sex and the City – one of the movies, that is, not the TV show – I would conduct interviews with smart, vivacious and quirky young people in a coffee shop, and then one of them would come to my home and sort out the masses of paper I am surrounded by, and make me tea with honey and little finger sandwiches, and most especially take care of this site for me.
It’s not writing blog posts that bothers me, it’s my brain’s unwillingness to take on new information. At least, new information that involves figuring out how to add widgets and manage widgets, or — let’s face it, anything to do with widgets. Or coding. Or anything, really, that involves the necessity of me having to wade through a Dummies guide to get something done properly. (I love Dummies guides. Don’t get me wrong.) I have a pretty decent brain, and I often – one might say, semi-daily – find myself researching every bit of information I can find on the properties of, say, sourdough bread and the ideal temperature at which to keep one’s starter, or testing myself to see if I can name every film Kate Winslet has been in. Plus, I have a job, and a couple of steady freelance gigs, and oh yes! a new book to write.
In most areas, I like to learn by trial and error, and I can happily spend hours searching for shelves with the exact spacing I want for my storage closet, or the best brand of meat thermometer. I like to do everything for myself. I cut my own hair, because Youtube has approximately six million videos about how to do that, and I’m not particularly vain, so what’s the worst than can happen? (Ha. That’s another post.) I am about to teach myself how to sew, because one of my fantastic sister gave me a sewing machine for my birthday, and I love mucking around with crafty things.
But life, she is short. And when I live in dread of having to do something, I realize that it’s time to face that thing head-on…and find someone else to do it. One of the happiest days of my life was when I found a lovely tax preparer who specializes in doing taxes for artists. Sure, I like cutting my own hair and I will happily cook dinner for 20 people any day, but the sense of doom I used to feel whenever I contemplated tackling my taxes would send me back under the duvet. Psychologically, at least.
So if I haven’t been updating as much as I would like to, it’s because I have a mental block about doing some things I should do on this site. Bear with me. Soon, you will actually be able to sign up to receive updates, and I’ll feel more free to actually ramble on at will, and it won’t feel like a trip to the dentist. (Though I love going to the dentist, to be honest. Quite seriously, I find it an extremely relaxing activity.)