Don't Do It...

I was about to skip writing today. I mean, I have an easy (easier) goal of 6 fiction pieces for the month and that leaves only 6 other blogs I need to write for the month to stay on track and I have some banked so even then if I just skipped it it would be fine. 

But then I remembered past me whining about how I was finding all of these excuses not to write everyday, so many great excuses that poor Brent was like, "I can move my work set up out of your office so you can write." and I had to be like, "No, Dude! You're fine! I was literally using it as a lame reason why I wasn't writing, you aren't holding me back at all! And besides all that, my hobby does not take precedence over your actual job!" He's so lovely. 

But I was going to just skip it today. I did some other things that took some time. And I played with the cats. And it's a lovely day so I took a walk and enjoyed that. And then it was time to start dinner and...

Hey! There you go! I can order dinner in and skip cooking if I take the time to write instead. Nice.

So Brent is on a work happy hour, and I am writing with a drink next to my keyboard. I feel like I should be writing the next great American novel, but it's only one drink so you get a blog instead.

And not even a blog with a purpose. You get a meandering, this totally counts, blog. 

But it does totally count.

And it also keeps me from having a drink and then replying to Facebook posts that I have been studiously avoiding commenting on. There were two yesterday and one today that my fingers were itching to reply to, but I'm trying really hard not to do that right now. There will be a blog about my head space on this later, not today, because this is a cheater blog, but soon.

And I could have done a poem since it's poetry month, but I did two last month and Skippy might finally unfriend me if I do another poetry month. Though I will say that was one of the hardest challenges I set for myself. Aside from the weight ones, because we know I miss those all the time. The a poem every day and in a variety of styles was tough. More on Skippy than on me, but it was tough for me as well.

And hey...there's dinner being delivered. Early. Serves me right for trying to sneak out of cooking. Now I've got dinner a half hour before Brent will be ready to eat so it will be pretty gross by the time he gets to it. Dang it...

Maybe I should have had a drink and picked fights on Facebook instead...