posted by
laramie at 11:52am on 16/03/2007
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It's sunny out; the dusting of new snow we got overnight has already melted. I've got a load of laundry in the washer and am eager to get it done so that I can change out of my ugly laundry-day slacks.
I'm feeling frustrated with myself for making such a slow start to the day. I had to lie in bed and read (Terry Pratchett's HogFather) for an hour before I could roust myself up. It's not like I haven't got plenty to do. (sic: laundry, write current story, review notes for new novel, revise M&M, organize materials for doing taxes, plus half a dozen other potential projects.) Or maybe it's because there's so much to do. It's overwhelming. Crawling back into bed seems like a solution.
I'm feeling frustrated with myself for making such a slow start to the day. I had to lie in bed and read (Terry Pratchett's HogFather) for an hour before I could roust myself up. It's not like I haven't got plenty to do. (sic: laundry, write current story, review notes for new novel, revise M&M, organize materials for doing taxes, plus half a dozen other potential projects.) Or maybe it's because there's so much to do. It's overwhelming. Crawling back into bed seems like a solution.