I had a meeting scheduled yesterday morning, but school was canceled and the likelihood of getting out of our neighborhood was slim. I proposed a FaceTime meeting instead, which worked so well we kept working throughout the morning, took a break, and then worked for the better part of the afternoon. Thus, the grant work we planned for this week is slightly ahead of schedule. Most of what's left to be done requires information from other people. It is due at the end of this month, so being this far by the second day of February, relieves my innate deadline stress.
We're on snow day number two, and today is worse than yesterday was. Yesterday we could drive out if we absolutely had to, today would be impossible. Knowing this last night, I put together a lengthy list of things I could get done today. It's overwhelming, because this is what I do to myself.
Writing isn't on the list, but I keep telling myself that getting the balance of this other stuff done will give me the time to write . . . someday. Or is it just another excuse? Putting other things in front of the thing I'm not ready to do yet.
Regardless, I'll make the most of the day. Writing something is better than writing nothing. Yesterday I wrote for eleven hours. That counts for something. And I'm reading, which Stephen King tells us we should be doing if we're not writing. Good advice, and I guess he's done okay for himself . . . so I'll take it.
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