MMWUC: The muse in the mud is worth getting the taxes done

Rick sits and ponders. The taxes are done for 2011, but it took a monumental Sunday of scrounging around for  pieces of paper. When did I get so disorganized? I used to have everything ready: files ordered, charitable contributions yellow-highlighted in the checkbook and on VISA bill statements, out with the stack of old bills, files readied for 2012. I've lost myself to the muse and creativity. The "what if" has become "it's done."

Making sure the first hummingbirds have their sugary water is more important. pulling poison ivy (my fingers still ache) is a priority. Encouraging orchids, hostas, glads, a jasmine bush, roses, mock oranges, tulips, daffodils, johnny jump ups, and over a hundred other variety of flowers to bloom has intoxicated my muse. She spends more time smelling the forsythia and baby's breath than inspiring me to finish my current WIP. I pushed her into a mud puddle. She threw a garden gnome at me. His pointy head hit my pointy head, but the writing started up again.

God, my muse is hot when she's mad. And the writing's going well into the night. No taxes to tax me.

So, what mind-numbing chore saps you from writing, and how do you get around it? Or, are you just more mature than I?