An hour and a half round trip to drop the boy off this morning, thanks to piles of snow in the road and idiots driving on them who can’t wait their turn or remember how to drive in snow. The round trip usually takes thirty-five to forty minutes, including drop-off time. I came straight home rather than run the errands I need to run because otherwise I’d only have walked through the door around noon. I am having to reinitialize all my parking-in-snowbanks and pulling-out-of-snowbanks skills that have lain dormant for ten months.
After handling correspondence and news, lunch (important because I have missed breakfast and lunch the past two days), laundry, a call from the bank to discuss things, and so forth, it is now QUARTER TO THREE and I haven’t even gotten to Real Writing Work yet.
It’s that kind of day. I’ve lost so much momentum since last Wednesday, which is the last day I got to work at all. I wish I was motivated. This is one of those days where being a writer is more work than any other job I’ve held.
I’m going to have to leave forty-five minutes early to get through the idiocy and pick the boy up too, so if I hit a groove I’ll to have to jump out of it before I want to. It is so very tempting to say ‘to hell with it all’ and go play the DS instead. But I’ll still have to think of something to make for dinner.
That freelance cheque can arrive any time now, thanks. Money would make things marginally better.