I’ve spent a quiet morning reading the news. It was blissful at the time; and then I realized the whole thing had passed, and I hadn’t written a word, and I’d wasted hours of sunlight that I could have been pretending to be a working writer (or at least buying groceries).
Self: do better! This is the year of striving.
(As if all those other years were not. Still.)
I have four more vacation days this winter, and–happy coincidence–four stories I owe myself by the first day of spring. Go forth!
