You spend two weeks in an idyllic location worrying nothing other than your writing. It’s not exactly easy, because you have to figure out how to take two years worth of writing and stick it in an order that people will find interesting. You have to find the inner gumption to write every day rather than loll in bed and eat bon-bons. But it’s not exactly like laboring in the salt mines either.
Then you go home.
I can no longer ignore my emails. I have to remember to respond promptly and thoroughly, to follow through on the things I need to do rather than to put them off for two weeks.
Yesterday I put on shoes (rather than sandals) and went to work at my academic job. I wore a shirt that buttoned and pants that weren’t jeans. I had to remember how that job went, how to cite in APA, how to keep from cussing too much on the job.
Then I had a good ol’ fashioned blowup with DP, and tried to remember what it is like to live with other people—not strangers I will never see again, but the actual person I promised in front of everyone I know to live with in an effective, loving partnership for the rest of our natural lives, unless he has to put me down in the event of a zombie apocalypse. I had to remember how to hold my tongue when I want to talk, to talk when I want to storm away in silence, to choose my battles, to decide when I’ve said enough or too much or not enough.
What is difficult for you to remember?