What is hyperfertility, you ask. Well, hyperfertility is where for whatever reason, I can't frick'n stop writing. It usually happens right around the time I'm most likely to get pregnant (and I doubt that's a coincidence), and it also happens to co-exist with mania. I'm not truly manic in that sense (yes, I'm still snarfing down my USRDA of pills), but a little bit hypomanic? Yeah, I'd cop to that. Still, I'm not staying up to all hours of the night and I'm not talking a mile a minute (though I do, for some reason, have the lyrics to ABBA's "Fernando" stuck in my head). My doc and I just tinkered around with one of my doses of something or other to fix an issue with something or other else, and that may have set this off; he says not to worry, give it a few weeks and everything will straighten out. To which I thought, "A couple of weeks! Great, that's enough time to finish the book!"
Wrong answer, right? Well, hey, it's the one I've got.
So on the wants list, I've got falling by the wayside beading, TV of pretty much any kind (though I managed to catch "House" on Monday), any serious pursuit of anything else, and any cooking of anything that takes more than ten minutes. I've been recruited as a betafish for The Sekrit Projekt (google that; I'm not even gonna try to explain) and I've only been over there once. On the needs list, I'm managing to keep up with the chores, but I haven't mowed the lawn yet this year, nor have I had the blades sharpened on the mower. I also haven't done anything about having the exterminator come by, the gas man check out the stove, or the washing machine guy come fix the balance issue. And as for the must dos--well, I'm getting to work every day and I'm working on work stuff while I'm there. But I always do that. Even when I'm fatally distracted, I'm pretty good at doing my job.
(Yes, I'm also bathing and doing the laundry. I have certain standards, ya know.)
The last time I was hyperfertile, which was almost a year ago, I just typed like mad and waited for it to pass. And it did. I have a feeling I'll be doing the same thing this time. The lawn, the stove, the washing machine and all that will still be around when it does. Which isn't to say some people won't be impatient with me, such as a certain person with whom I reside. Uh, sorry, sweetie. But I'm keeping up with the chores, right? Right?