Today was v. productive in the best/worst possible way. Best because I wrote ten pages; worst because I'm buried in day job stuff with no end in sight. I actually managed to get up and drag myself down the street to meet up with my writer friend at seven a.m., which is totally unprecedented and unheard of. Even more remarkably, I wrote almost ten pages in the two hours between when I got there and when I left to catch the bus to work. Crazy, I know. If I could do that a couple of times a week + a lot of weekends, I would feel good about life.
However, I went to work and had to ignore my writing the rest of the day; I have more stuff to do than it is possible to do unless I want to revert to my old bad workaholic habits, which I don't want to (although you'd be fooled, since I just worked from nine to midnight). Also, I ate a lot of gluten-free chocolate chip bundt cake, and the sugar kind of made me sick. Also, I have an eight a.m. meeting, which means I need to go to bed immediately if I'm going to get enough sleep (although I suppose that the naps I took on the shuttle will help me to stay alive). Also, this post is boring - I'm out of words. Goodnight!
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