I wonder how much time I will have to write, free of the others droning on about how much time I spend without them. How much of my time has been taken from them to serve my fingers and thoughts with no regard for their feelings and desires? This is the constant bicker of the three spouses that I could do without.

Spouse one is sleep and I suppose he is the loudest. Especially at four in the morning when I am still bathing in the light of my laptop, engorged on the newest chapters of my latest novel. The next spouse is creation, who loves it when I am up in the wee hours of the morning giving him all the attention he requires. He pulls from me ideas and stories, sneaky in his silence, lest I wake from my trance-like state and realize the time. The other spouse is free-time, he who balances the rest of my life and buoys me from the depths of a one-sided existence. He is the one who tells me to get out and experience the sun once in a while, nags me about the lawn that needs to be cut and that the weeds won’t get rid of themselves.

It is not that I give these entities free rein. I have from time to time forgotten them, or forced their hand to my own schedule, this I do not deny.

I am glad that none of the spouses are in flesh’s form for I would surely have a fight on my hands. These “men” in my life would be staring each other down, taking each others measure, while all the time circling and clamoring for attention. As it stands now they still clamor, making an awful din, but it is in my head that they play tug of war.

If I am out tending to the yard with Free-time, Creation stuffs ideas into my mind until they are oozing out of my ears. Hoping that I will run into the house covering my ears so none of the ideas crawl down my shoulders and hop onto the ground to its freedom. He figures if he can just get me to the notepads and the laptop that is all it will take to break my will. Most times he is right. When I am at the computer with Creation spilling ideas into fruition, Free-time baits me with nagging thoughts of the laundry that needs to be done, thinking that if he can get me out in the yard to hang the clothes on the line, I will see the wonderful weather and decide to get out for the long awaited run.

So here I sit yet again at the witching hour, with my warlocks. One snores, one is happily silent while the keys are at play, and the other beckons my attention with loving arms to the blissful sleep I should be engaged in.