I have so many boxes. The cats have an exciting box playground. I feel like I’m making no progress at all, but I’m gradually clearing a path.
Of course, what I’m making no progress on is writing. Sigh! I have plans, but there is almost no butt in seat time. I’m so tired from work and unpacking that there isn’t a lot of energy left over.
I think this is something a lot of (most? all?) writers deal with: you have to fit writing into a life that includes a day job, trying to maintain a relationship/family, etc. Something has to give, and I think women have the worst of it. But that’s a rant for another day.
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