Revising my novel. I put a couple of hours into it yesterday but it’s not exactly whizzing along and I’m not sure the revisions are improving anything.
Working out. I’m averaging every other day, maybe. I managed a big 20 minutes on Sunday. If I push myself to do twice that much, I feel like an Olympian. The air-conditioner is running in the garage right now to cool it down and I’m suited up. The hard part is showing up. I keep telling myself that something is better than nothing but nothing is a whole lot easier. I haven’t been to a yoga class in weeks.
Working. I actually have a lot of work lined up. I eke out an assignment or so a day but it’s not easy.
Gardening. I’m not much of a gardener, to understate the case, but I do get out there with pruning shears and tidy things up from time to time. But not now. Every day I pass a little ivy bed by the driveway that desperately needs a clean up. Every day I think about getting out there and snipping the straggly things down. It would take four minutes, max. Every day I forget all about it.
Sewing. On Sunday, I started making a skirt that should take about three hours. I’m managing about one seam a day.
Going to the supermarket. Poor Tom. It’s always up to him. I hate going to the supermarket. I don’t know why. We’re running out of everything we can’t buy at Costco and I can’t seem to care. I’ll just eat whatever is around until the cupboards are bare.
Putting away my laundry. I finished doing my laundry days ago. It’s still in the basket in the bedroom. I just rummage around in there for clean underwear every day and leave the rest of it sitting.
So what am I doing with my time these days? Jackshit.
Help.
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