Pissing and Moaning

I’ve been restless again, looking at my office, finding ways to procrastinate that involve shuffling around books, griping about my desk height in relation to my chair, eyeing the door hinges to see how easy they would be to remove, wishing for new shelves.

All that, and no writing being done.

Well, not entirely true.  I have managed about a page at work between calls.  It’s so steadily busy now, and my co-workers so talkative.  I don’t write there anymore.  I don’t even read.  And my lunches?  Yeah, there are always people around.  No privacy, no matter where I go.  

See?  Pissing and moaning.

I did switch out my lounge chair in the office, bringing the old papasan chair back up.  It takes up so much more room but it’s comfortable, dammit.  I had stopped using the IKEA chair, the one without the ottoman because it was crushed ages ago, so it may have taken up less space but it was contributing nothing to the room besides a place to throw my bag.  Now I can sit here with my legs crossed, book or computer in my lap, and feel comfortable.    So, minor progress.  Minor.

Oh, and I created two new binders (created meaning cannibalizing old binders, repurposing them for new tasks), one for printed hard-copies of stuff and a new binder collecting all the handwritten notes on current projects, which includes Spirit Cats mostly, but also notes on Grave Robber, Wolf Killer, and Candy Floss.

Todd is off to Elliot Lake, so no one to make lunch for, no one to cook dinner for.  He may or may not be here this evening.  I was hideously sick last night right after dinner (with his Mom over, too), so any out-of-the-house plans I had are toast.  Staying in.  Drawing up the moat.  Releasing the crocodiles.  I might be convinced to take the dog for a walk, a brief one, or perhaps spending some time outside with her in the backyard.  I’ve had only tea and toast, and have no interest in anything else.

Today I’m writing.  Not sure what yet, but I’m writing.

(And getting caught up on all the podcasts I’m subscribed to, ’cause I’m really behind.)

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