It never fails to amaze me how little time, for a professional writer, I actually spend writing. Today, for example, started off strong with three hours of writing time, then plunged into an unrecoverable "to do" list mania that ate up the day. So instead of spending the afternoon writing about the funny things cats do, I instead:
- Made an appointment with the vet to have the girls nails trimmed tomorrow
- Made an appointment to have my own mane trimmed later this week
- Called Lowe's in search of an asbestos-testing kit. No luck, so I...
- Called a friend of a friend who knows about such things and left a message for him to call me back
- Mailed a package at the post office
- Dropped off our old cell phone's at the sheriff's department, 25 minutes away
- Stopped in at Back Street Buzz in Reidsville and convinced the owner (who is from CA) to be my guest in September on my "How'd You End Up Here?" radio show
- Jotted down some thoughts for a talk I'm giving at a Rotary Club on Thursday and timed myself. WAY over the 15-minute limit. Cutting must take place.
- Returned a call to my best friend since I ignored her early morning call when the writing was flowing
- Went to yoga
- Sent out a Twitter request for "What question would your cat ask God, if they could?" (Fodder for the book)
- Jammed through 10-12 e-mails
- Ate lunch
Now I'm at Panera with an hour and half to kill before it's time to meet my running group for hill work in 90 degree heat. And what does it say about my day that the last part there sounds FUN and mildly ENTERTAINING at this point?
I have a cat book with me to read in the hopes of inspiring humor. I have coffee. I have a laptop and wireless and nothing left on my to-do list. I have a hot husband who will have stir-fry waiting for me this evening.
Life is pretty good.