Yesterday I made the decision to gift myself with a full day of writing—today. My husband has a recipe he wants to try (PTL) and how long could my little chores actually take? Especially if I did my planned cleaning a day ahead of time. Which I did.
So here it is, going on eleven. I've put bird seed in the feeders, made, cooled and refilled nectar feeders, fussed around writing some erudite emails, critiqued a piece of my granddaughters (which I did a terrible job with—another story), prepared to critique some chapters from a critique partner (who I can hammer away at with abandon), and well, that's about it.
Story? What story?
This post is short because I'm assassinating Procrastination at this very moment. Anyone got a bullet?
CR: Fear the Worst by Linwood Barclay. Available as a pre-order now from Amazon.
It's all better with friends.
Peg, why have we not met? You are living my life . . .writing angst and being a slave to my birds. Not to mention sticking to the hummingbird syrup spills on my floors. ;-) I've subscribed, looking forward to your posts.
ReplyDeleteCandace
Candace, you should see me every spring when the Brantley B&B is open to a pair of ducks. Ray and Deborah would walk right in the house if I let them. Instead, they get private baths, plenty of whole wheat duck bread and I try my best to keep a lookout for foxes.
ReplyDeleteEasily distracted, aren't we?