It's an issue that's been bothering me for a few years. Is it because I'm a woman? a mother? a lapsed Roman Catholic? Whatever the reason, my conscience nags at me every time I enjoy plotting a scene too much and, as the result:
- I serve the family a take-away meal full of trans-fats
- somebody steps on a toy, breaking it to bits, because it was lying in the corridor and not in the toy box
- my husband has to watch evening TV all by himself
- I forget to pack the kids' swimming gear
- my book is more interesting than the kid's piano lesson
Honestly, what right do I have to enjoy my work so much when my husband doesn't? What right do I have to waste family weekend time going t writing conferences? What right do I have being late for the school pickup because I'm writing this blog????