It's the last day of my two weeks off work: next Monday, it'll be up at sparrow's fart, shoes on feet, hair combed, and back to the office to churn out another fabulous edition of the magazine.
So I should be writing like a demon but I'm not.
It's not that I'm stuck so much as bewildered. I have several things I ought to be doing next and I can't settle into any of them. I also need to get stuck into my coursework for the Children's Lit diploma - and I did, yesterday - but it's just yet another item on the list of urgent priorities.
The thing is, I'm dying to get into research for a completely new book, but not sure I should start it yet. It's not the next thing in the queue. But it's just all so fascinating - set in a place and a time and a community that I am desperate to understand better.
Oh what the hell. Where's that encyclopaedia?
[Tears up list of urgent tasks.]
I'm going to curse myself next week when I can't do any of these things. Not enough time in the week.
In the meantime, when in doubt ... Eat lunch.
[Update - the next day - wrote like a demon until late last night. Awake half the night writing in my head. I guess all I needed was food.]