I came home from work with the express intention of doing a few more pages on chapter seven. I turned on the computer within five minutes of flinging my bags down on the floor. I clicked open Word. I started reading over the last few pages. I did everything right…
And then I decided to cook some dinner. And then I ate it while watching The One Show. And then I had to wash up, tidy up, and sort out the cats. And then I chatted with mum. And then I made tea and prowled the kitchen for biscuits. And then I came back upstairs, wrote a few emails, and played with Twitter. And then I turned the room upside down looking for some stamps, and then I had to tidy it back up again.
And now look at the time! It’s past ten. It’s too late for me to do anything on chapter seven now. I’ve just quickly looked at the bit I wanted to do, and I so want to get cracking, but know, oh I know that by the time I do only a paragraph it will be eleven, and too late for me on a school night.
So I sadly close Word again. The weekend, I promise it. We’ll get together then, make a date. It will have all of my attention. Until then, there is just about enough time for something mindless before bed.