This is a four-minute post. I slogged all day, through a variety of annoyances the likes of which inevitably seem to pop up bright and early on the day after a three-day weekend so that your glow is fully gone by the end of it. But, it was baked potato Tuesday at my favorite cafe, so I took a precious fifteen minutes to eat my potato in peace before getting back into the thick of it. I spent the afternoon in a meeting that I used to run, but that is now run (poorly, in my opinion, but I realize that I'm v. possessive) by someone else -- I told Heather (aka dear respected madam) that for me, sitting in that meeting is like watching your baby grow up to be a meth addict. She told me that analogies like that are why I'm a writer (although meth analogies don't really help with my historical romances, alas).
After work, I went to Philz in Palo Alto and enjoyed my customary Aromatic Arabic (sweet, with cream) on the patio while slogging some more. I vowed to do what I needed to do, do it efficiently, and come home to write. I followed through on the plan -- but when I got home, I discovered that a transformer or something had blown somewhere in the neighborhood, since several streets' worth of lights were out. It turns out that streetlights in a city are v. necessary; luckily, one block near me had power, and I was able to find parking under the lights there, which was key. When I got home, I lit every candle I could find, made a peanut butter sandwich, and spent a blissful hour continuing to develop my second book's outline in Scrivener.
Now, though, four minutes are up -- it's time for bed so that I can rinse and repeat tomorrow!
No comments:
Post a Comment