Yesterday I had a really ambitious to-do list. I was going to make progress!
I began by working on a project that I had been avoiding (that fear thing again). Then I read the draft of my second project and planned to think about expanding it as I walked the mile to the dry cleaners. I did not. The neighborhood was all decked out for Halloween and families were putting their finishing touches on elaborate decorations. People were out walking in costume. And the wind was ferocious! In the spattering of rain, I dropped off the clothes, and stopped off at the store. More costumes! Loaded with two canvas bags of food–including the candy–I came home, put the groceries away.
Next, I put up the plastic skeleton that I found buried in the basement and the row of jack o’ lantern lights. I looked at the leaves clotting the lowest step, listened to the wind, and said Later.
Now it was time for lunch, and I heated up some leftover chicken, added garlic, spinach and blue cheese, and sat down to eat. Gilbert the cat jumped on the counter. I yelled. He did nothing. I got up to get him down. He tensed, ready to jump onto my shoulder, and in jumping managed to knock over a bottle of beer that my daughter’s BFF’s brother had made. As the cat reached my body, the bottle hit the floor and shattered into big scraps and tiny shards.
I locked the cat in the basement so that he wouldn’t cut himself on the glass, picked up the largest pieces, grabbed wads of paper towels to keep the beer from reaching the family room carpet, noticed that the beer smelled pretty good, some floral notes, and got most of it cleaned up. I finished my lunch while the rest of the beer was drying, vacuumed the floor to get any minute glass splinters up. By now, the kitchen smelled like a frat house on Sunday morning. I mopped the floor.
Time to write. I let the cat out of the basement and started on my next project. I needed to look up information on the Kindle, which was out of charge. While I was sitting on the floor next to the plug and researching, I heard the sounds that herald cat vomit. I tried to get the cat off the carpet, but my timing was terrible, and the result was a long trail of barf. Poor kitty! Back for more paper towels and cleaning.
Time to write–really, and then I heard the scritch of a neighbor’s rake and thought, yes. I grabbed my own rake from the shed and gathered up one big, heavy bag of leaves.
Back inside, rereading for my homework assignment, typing in the free write for the poem I’d started. Then it was time to feed the cat, and while washing off the lid before throwing it away, I managed to slice my thumb. I ran upstairs for a Band-Aid, ran back down, fed the cat, read a little more, and then remembered that I need to put flank steak into marinade. That’s when I realized my bandage had soaked through. I ran back upstairs, grabbed several Band-Aids (note that we used to keep a box in the kitchen), finished chopping the garlic and stripping the herbs from their stems, measured the rest of the ingredients into the plastic bags, wrestled the meat in, and now it was time to start the ratatouille for dinner, keeping one ear on the door for trick-or-treaters.
As writing days go, it was packed with a lot of not-writing, but I did get two projects to their next stage of completion and made progress on one more.
How do your writing days go?