A writer's nightmare

I stumbled out of bed, saw my husband off to work and plopped myself down in my usual morning spot. My computer. I booted up, checked email, sent a few replies and then logged into Google Reader. Ooooooo, look at all the pretty updated blogs.
*click*
Familiar, yet annoying screen comes up. “We’re sorry. That site has been blocked. Listed under blogs.”
What the–
Since when are blogs on our firewall’s block list? I mean, yes occasionally we’ll get in there to block something we don’t want the children on, or when we think they’re spending too much time on a particular area and need a gentle reminder. But me? The Mom? The writer? Who’s been at my system I wonder. I rubbed my eyes and tried again, thinking that maybe I hadn’t yet fully woken up. Surely the system didn’t just tell me all my favorites sites were blocked.
*click* Yup. No go. And what’s this? My social networking is blocked as well? AND you tube? *grrr* That explains my nonworking tweetdeck this morning as well. *opens firewall settings and clicks on six different buttons that didn’t used to be clicked*
Part of me is wondering if the site had gone wonky, the other part wonders if it’s a joke from my husband telling me I’ve spent too much time on it. Maybe But he knows full well that I can change the settings back if I want to, so I guess I’m just dreaming, or maybe having a nightmare. Maybe I should go back to bed and try again later. Like in 3 minutes when the network reboots with my “newly” clicked changes.
This begs the question though. How do our families feel about our writing? Is it a love/hate relationship? Or does your spouse or child push you onto the computer and tell you to write! Write! Write!
On the bright side the gravatars on my site starting working after all these months. Must have been something I clicked.

... other posts by Karen Adair

Jolene says:

August 6, 2010 at 11:39 am

Children are resigned. Though they’re used to their mother working on some kind of project or another. My husband LOVES it, but I know that at the end of the week, when I’ve spent nearly every night with my laptop on my lap, he’s ready for it to disappear for a day or two.