Man, I was so sleepy, I had to stop and listen to some very loud music to stimulate my brain before I could type this. (It does work. Same as with a migraine, oddly -- at least the kind I get, which aren't painful, but do make me groggy. Have to pick something with a "wall of sound" to it. Bob Seger works pretty well. Although ballads with sufficient orchestral support do pretty well too. Jazz doesn't -- needs too much active brain to respond right.)
I am sleepy partly because I was up late reading good books. And partly because the cat -- though he tried very hard NOT to disrupt my sleep every fifteen minutes this morning, DID get me up a couple of times out of sheer enthusiasm for life. (I swear that boy is part Siamese. And part Golden Retriever.)
I suppose I'm mostly sleepy, though, because I was freaking busy today. I did a bunch of recycling. Dealt with phone calls, dealt with family stuff. Finished up the baking. Ran errands, and then went to a friend's house for game night.
Did I do any writing or editing?
Well, um, no.
I have a theory, though, that if I get a whole lot of stuff done, I will feel virtuous and the satisfaction will rub off on the writing tasks. (I have in the past found this to be true.) Whereas overall sloth makes me feel slothful about writing.
And if I'm wrong, well, at least I got a whole lot of stuff done.
I did find, before I began drooling on the keyboard, that the voice of In Flight started speaking to me in words again.
See you in the funny papers.