Look, I adore you, and I appreciate all that you do for me, even though you have a weird way of bugging me when I don't have access to writing utensils. I don't know why you like to fill my head with ideas when I'm in the shower or trying to fall asleep when I have to wake up early the next morning, but you're wonderful.
The thing is, I'm trying to move right now. There's still so much I have to do in the next few days to get all my crap out of the house. It really doesn't help that I can't stop thinking about my novel. Now, if I'm at work or something, it's no big deal, because I can easily take a break and type out a few pages. But when I'm trying to sort through masses of detritus on my bedroom floor and trying desperately not to get distracted, that's another matter. Although I'd appreciate your help in finding all those handwritten novel pages I need to type up that are scattered around my room.
I'll tell you what. Give me a few days to get out of the rental house. Then, once that's over with and I'm just waiting until the final settlement on the house I'm buying, you can fill my head with whatever nonsense you want, and then I'll only ask you to leave me alone again when I'm moving into the new house. Got it?
(Yes, I have been writing a bunch recently, mostly random novel scenes, although I did rewrite part of one of the climaxes to make it clearer. My characters have been poking me a lot lately.)