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For two hours, I’ve been trying to get to my desk to work on my book, but first, there were things that had to be done. I walk around the house, barefoot, most of the time, so I can feel when the floor is dirty more than I can see it on this espresso-colored wood. This morning I felt it was particularly crumby from last night’s cornbread, so I had to sweep. And, I couldn’t leave the breakfast dishes in the sink, so I had do them, and the bed… Usually I make it the minute I get out of it, but this morning I needed coffee more than I needed a neat bed. Now I’m rushing to accomplish everything so I can sit down and write.

“What would happen if you just left that stuff until later,” you ask? Well, nothing, except I know I can’t–insert ‘won’t‘–do that. I’d worry about what was undone. Continue Reading