I should have gone to bed forty-five minutes ago as planned. The reason? I agreed to meet a writer friend (the girl from my retreat last weekend) at a coffee shop to write at seven a.m. tomorrow. SEVEN AM. As in SEVEN IN THE MORNING. What am I thinking?!
But what I'm thinking is this: I told my editor I would send her Prudence and Alex at the beginning of August, and as it is now the middle of June, I need to get cracking. If I can write for a couple of hours in the morning a couple of days a week, and maybe one or two evenings, that would help me get there much faster than writing nothing. Obvious, right?
Despite my lofty goals, I didn't write today; instead, I slept until 10:30, had a leisurely lunch with Terry, John, and Jess, and then hung out with Chandlord for a bit when I went to her place to retrive my car. Then I came home, talked to my parents (Happy Father's Day!), did some work-related tings (and by work I mean Sara Ramsey - some mailing list maintenance stuff in preparation for sending out another newsletter this week), and then had a fancy roommate dinner with Terry since we're likely not going to see each other again in forever (one of us, alternating, is out of town every weekend between now and the end of July). And now, I must go to sleep so that I can get tomorrow off on the right foot. Goodnight!
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