Writing continues, as it should, although not as well as it should. I took most of yesterday off, and I have been neglecting my journal writing entirely too much...Today, I need to push through a 4,500-word freelance piece and send out several job applications. I suppose this is the price I pay for taking a day off; I ought to now better by now than to do such things. I do know better, in fact, having written to that effect at least once if not more often.
(How "off" a day is that is spent in taking care of the actual physical house is, admittedly, an open question. Yesterday saw one of the cats get entangled with blinds in the living room. I got to replace said blinds--and I bought underwear while I was out getting the new blinds, as many of the pairs I had had had holes in them.* Underwear is needful; I once tried to go without it, and I was punished for my temerity in a particularly intimately biting way. Never again.)
So, after a bit of breakfast provided by my most excellent wife, I will get right back to work. It is the only thing I can do.
*Yes, "I had had had." Past perfect referring to the past event of having holes. Seriously, people...
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