I'm so, so achingly stupid sometimes. I tried to go to bed at midnight last night, but when I didn't fall asleep within three minutes, I picked up my nook, thinking I would read a chapter of a romance novel I'd recently purchased...and ended up staying awake until 4:30am. Stupid, stupid. At least I forced myself to go to bed rather than finishing it, right? And I really should be reading a lot more than I do so that I can keep up on the industry, so I can't totally regret it. But given that I'd intended to go down to Stanford library today and write all day/night, and instead I woke up after five hours of sleep and wandered around in a haze all day, perhaps regret is part of it.
Anyway, I woke up at 9:30 (slightly hungover, but since I lived through the descent into a hangover while reading in the middle of the night, it wasn't all that bad), took care of some promo stuff (giving the last bit of feedback on the romance trading cards I ordered, which, I have to say, look totally awesome), and then had breakfast out with Terry. Yesterday I went out for breakfast with lovely hair and a cute maxidress; today I went out with my hair pulled back, no makeup, and an old top and jeans; tomorrow, I'll either be in sweats or a glam dress, depending on the constantly-shifting state of my overly hyper/depressed writer brain. Anyway, we had a lovely breakfast, and then I came home and spent two hours working on a guest blog post for tomorrow (which I think turned out well - I'm over at the Dashing Duchesses, which is a real site; I won't link to it here in cases it creates a pingback that reveals this blog to the romance world, but if you want to read it, click through from the press area of my Sara Ramsey site).
After finishing all that, I took a bath/nap, which was as lovely as it sounds. Then I talked to my mother for awhile, who was in fine form, particularly since her beloved Cyclones are doing so well. Then I worked for a bit, then I made chili (yum), then I watched the end of the Super Bowl in an utterly desultory and surly manner. My father called at some point, so I caught up with him; then I returned to the couch and basically did very little, despite all the pressing tasks mounting, mounting, mounting around me. Terry and I watched a bit of a documentary on Jesse James, which was v. interesting, before switching over and watching the season premiere of "The Voice". And I wrote another guest blog post for a different blog, which should be up sometime this week. And I brainstormed more guest blogs, which makes me want to cry, since there's a big difference between coming up with witty, succinct, interesting content for strangers and just vomiting onto the screen for you guys every night.
So now I'm going to go to bed and hopefully get ten hours of sleep so that I can wake up and hit Malcolm and Amelia hard (very hard, preferably with a bat or stick or blunt instrument of some sort) in the morning. Goodnight!
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