My house is in turmoil. We have painted our open-plan living room and now we are sanding the floorboards. There is dust everywhere. Everything we can move out of the room is now in my bedroom (which looks like an overstuffed storeroom with a bed in the middle). We were eating all our meals in the garden until it started to rain and now we are forced to picnic in our bedrooms -if we can find the floor space.
And just to top it all, the proofs for “Her Parenthood Assignment” have arrived. I have two weeks to get them done and I can’t even find a flat, dust-free surface in my house to put them on. Last night I dreamt that when I looked at them I realised that it wasn’t even the right book staring back at me. In my dream, the word document had corrupted and had somehow morphed into my aborted first attempt at a novel, full of typos and gobbledegook.
I think my brain is trying to tell me I'm a little overstretched.