Sunday

It was a day of clouds, so I didn't want to get up this morning.

It was a rainy day, so I didn't want to fuss about in the studio in the damp air.

It was an NFL football day, so I was determined not to miss a game once I got home from church.

I got up. I checked the status of the upholstery job I'm doing in the studio. I watched football all day, glad that the Steelers won, but disappointed that Rothlisberger and his wayward wang didn't get sacked and crushed into the turf; I laughed hard at the incongruity of the Raiders' huge win against Denver.

But mostly, what I did was NOT WRITE. "Transitions" is finally as done as it's ever gonna be, so I don't have that habit to plague and placate me. The next writing exploit is going to be NaNoWriMo -- and the prospect is as paralyzing to writing as an anvil on my hands.

I have no idea what I'm going to write. I don't have a sure-fire well of extra words for word count.

But my goodness, I am champing at the bit to start.