It feels like summer. Gerry’s going hiking and I’m tempted to sit in the lawn swing all day with a book in my hand, a glass of iced tea by my side, and one foot on the ground to maintain a gentle sway. I did that once. I spent an entire Saturday in the yard, and read an entire book. (The book was Water for Elephants. I think of it every time the opportunity presents for another such day.)
I write because I like to write. I find joy in the texture and tone and rhythm of words.
Instead, I’ll take my manuscript and a red pen out to the deck, set up an ergonomically-incorrect workspace for my laptop, and continue working on the book. One must do what one must to make the most of such days, and still stay the course with self-imposed goals.