It appears, dear readers, that my declaration of triumph over the war on words (my battle to keep stacking those numbers up) was over confidence on my part. Misplaced optimism, I’m afraid.
Here I sit, in front of my laptop merrily emailing friends (in great detail; those poor souls surely thought there couldn’t possibly be 2,000 words to describe a lamb recipe I tried out recently), re-organising my folders and files – the joy of re-naming! – and reverting to previously noted tactic of finding long and complex recipes to try out.
In addition, the sun has shone its heart out in my part of the world this week. We have experienced temperatures in the mid-20s. The cat has collapsed in a soporific state in the coolest part of the house he can find and I count the hours, well minutes, until I can justifiably say to myself: “I’ve been on the flippin’ lap top for AGES. It’s time to remember all those important Primal Blueprint rules about getting out in the daylight and soaking up Vitamin D. My health demands it!”
Two hours of sunbathing per day. Sometimes I read, sometimes I daydream, sometimes I snooze.
In short, I have procrastinated, deliberated, added in countless other jobs and twiddled my thumbs rather than write a book. To be fair to myself, I have also applied for several freelancing jobs. Heck, I’ve even done a few of them and been PAID, which is always a bonus in the freelancing world.
I also – very important task – tutored Mama Highheelsandpinkglitter on the use of Windows 8. She now knows how to switch her laptop off.
But, but, but… There’s a book waiting to be finished. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling nicely. There’s even a, gulp, writing competition to enter (deadline 20 September). Time to kick procrastination back into touch.