I wonder, quite often actually, if I am simply lazy. Why don’t I accomplish more in any given day? It’s 10:21 a.m. on a Thursday in March. I’ve been up for at least four hours and what have I done to further my writing career?
First and most importantly, I made coffee. I retrieved the newspaper from the driveway. Then I sat on the swing and contemplated the swimming pool (which needs to be cleaned by me and requires some chlorine and muriatic acid) while I meditated (which means thinking about nothing in particular) and drank my first cup of coffee (add one Equal, cinnamon and cream—but don’t tell my nutritionist this).
Then, hmm, at some point during this time I read my e-mail. Lots of not important stuff from professional links and loops. Delete most of it. Starving, must eat. Made oatmeal (put brown sugar in it—again, please don’t tell my nutritionist).
Had to walk Pepper. Usually that’s just to the corner and back, but today we went down Logan Blvd. a little way. Emma, the neighbor’s dog, who is always running loose, followed us. Sometimes, Pepper runs with me while I ride my bike down Logan. But after a couple of days of that, she needs a break. Like me, she’s getting old(er).
Back home, and somewhere in there I had a second cup of coffee and started working on the crossword in the paper, probably when I was eating my oatmeal.
Did a load of laundry.
Made a call to change an appointment.
Located my Twitter page. (Honestly, I don’t get Twitter, but I do try.)
Read about a contest online. Three sentences describing a completed manuscript, 150 words max. Composed an entry for my fantasy manuscript and sent it to five writer friends to see if they had any thoughts for improvement.
Sent a guest blog that was due.
Haven’t worked on my current wip. And now I’m hungry again. Maybe it isn’t laziness. Maybe it’s low blood sugar?