On A Roll

It's almost noon. This morning I slept late, tumbled out of bed with curls askew and raced the dog to the groomer for his 8:30 appointment, only ten minutes late.

I walked from the groomer's to my local coffee franchise (read: Tim Horton's, not the quiet place with the fair trade coffee in reusable cups). For some strange reason I work better when there's noise around me, perhaps the outer noise helps me turn inwards.

I captured the bones of two short stories while I was there. I wrote for an hour, came home and wrote for two more.

The house is a mess. I am wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday. I need to take a shower and I'm supposed to go back and pick the dog up in half an hour.

I don't care.