Time is both a gift and a curse. I’ve more of it now to write than I’ve had since I was in graduate school, and I don’t know what to do with myself. My procratinating has gotten so bad that I stooped to vacuuming off the little ergonomic wrist rest that goes with my keyboard.
I am doomed.
Any chance this is recovery time? Sometimes under a lot of pressure I can get a lot done – not only what I have to do for work, or family obligations, but also related to my own projects. When the pressure’s off, I totally relax for awhile – and even though I’d been thinking of how much I would get done when I didn’t have to worry about X any longer, with X gone, nothing gets done.
And then I start to put it all together again.