Mom's got some sort of all-day church thing today (she's in the choir) and I only had a few things I needed to do today, so when I got up this morning I was full of plans to get TONS of writing done.
First I decided to get my must-dos out of the way. I beta-read a story for Jameson T. Caine (which I should have done days ago) and enjoyed that so much that I decided the day was going to be an utter success. Thus encouraged, I went ahead and did the less-agreeable tasks I'd set for myself today: cleaning up the kitchen and study. That was kind of fun too, since I stopped partway through for an early lunch and then felt virtuous when I washed my dishes. I rewarded myself with a little bit of Exile II.
Did I start writing after that? Well, I had so much other stuff I needed to get done first.... So I cleaned the bathroom, picked up and vacuumed my bedroom, took a bunch of recycle stuff out, went to the store, wrote out my bills and got them ready to mail, filed the stack of important papers in my important papers file, pulled out old important papers that I didn't need to keep and put them aside for shredding, and even got the shredder out to shred them, except I can't make it work. I rewarded myself with a little more Exile II.
Now it's after 4pm, and I have this useless feeling of guilt that I wasted the day. Writers. We have absolutely no perspective.
Of course, I still have several hours in which to write this evening. But I really need to clean my hiking boots and get my work clothes ready for the week.