Dust bunnies, that is. It must be spring. All that rain has sprouted every seed in existence, and they’re all weeds, and they’re all in my yard. The inside of the house doesn’t look a whole lot better. They call them dust bunnies because they reproduce at an alarming rate. I’ve started learning feng shui, to motivate myself to do housework. There has to be some creative narcotic fix to this, or some kind of puzzle or magic to hold my interest, or it ain’t gettin’ done. I find the prospect of writing an entire novel less daunting than cleaning house. I’d rather read a rejection letter than clean house. (more…)