Blogging: An Illicit Affair?

Poor neglected blog ... I've been paying attention to This D*mn House today after enjoying a much deserved day off yesterday, filled with friends, scrapbooking and shopping. Just what the doctor ordered after a very miserably ill day on Thursday.

So I'm talking about the blog with my most excellent friend Chele. She is one of many of you who are regularly reading it (which both delights and shocks the hell out of me) and has told me that she likes it. My sincerest thanks to her and to all of you. She is directly responsible for this entry, which is based on that conversation.

I have to admit that writing this blog has made me rediscover how much I love to write. Or, more accurately, how much I love to write about what I want to write about. My job, which keeps the lights on and food on the table and affords the expense of a new computer and Internet access, thereby directly supporting the blog, does require a good deal of writing. Some of it is fun and I enjoy it. This is, however, in the minority.

Despite this fact, most days I really do love my job. Other days, a trial separation might be in order. (I think everyone feels that way about their job at some point. I'm just fortunate to be in the minority that doesn't feel that way every day.) In fact, I have to tell you that I got some serious love from my job on Friday. So, I'm feeling a lot about it like you do your beloved after a particularly happy anniversary celebration or a romantic weekend getaway. Who loves ya, baby?

Even so, I've concluded that the true love of my life is, in fact, writing. (Sorry, Oz, you're a very close second.) And it's made me wonder if there is a way to earn a living blogging. It's made me seriously contemplate this. Seriously.

But because I do love my job -- though I love writing more -- this blog is like an illicit affair. It's like your high school or college sweetheart, the one you never quite got over, that moves in down the street from you -- and your husband and three kids. You love your husband and three kids, but that sweetheart will always set everything aflutter. You really love your husband and three kids, so you'll never do anything about that flutter because: 1) the reality is probably not as good as you think it would be and 2) it would seriously jeopardize, if not destroy, your home.

And so, I'll continue to be happy with "the flutter."