Rest, ruminate; lament. Tell myself
to pull my socks up: if it really is
that bad, I can fix it when I return in three months for the Big Edit (which is
kind of like a deep clean...)
Read a bit. Craft a bit. Buy a lot –
and cringe when the credit card bill comes in. Remind myself that these
purchases were essential: rewards for writing a whole novel, and things-that-have-been-on-the-wish-list-so-long-they-have-to-have-a-new-home...
Fuss the cat loads, now that she has
started sitting on my lap. Realise that this is not just because she was an un-socialised
kitten who has made huge leaps forward in trusting humans, but because there is
actually room for her now that I’m not using the laptop every night. Oh.
Craft a bit more now that I have new
stash.
Sort through things everywhere
(writing room, bedroom, lounge, kitchen), chucking out what I haven’t used in a
year. Or two.
Begin relevant research, now that I
know what is actually relevant... Get
lost in fabulous but irrelevant detail once again, and remind myself that I
just chucked loads of that out. Decide not to repeat.
Start to give the Pen Pot a spring clean with a fresh look, then get irritated with technology and give up. Resolve to put ‘patience’ on my Christmas List.
Start to give the Pen Pot a spring clean with a fresh look, then get irritated with technology and give up. Resolve to put ‘patience’ on my Christmas List.
Consult the calendar, certain my self-imposed
three months must soon be up.
Scream when I see that only two
weeks have passed. Two weeks.
Console myself with a bar of
chocolate. And another one. Stop short of being sick. Here, try one of your cupcakes,
you say? Oh, go on, then, it would be rude not to...
~ ttfn ~