Limbo

Now is a time of day when I feel like I should be doing a lot of things, and here I am on the internet. So I am trying to be on the internet and productive at the same time. See, the internet can suck time, as everyone knows, but it also is really part of my job. How else could I blog, connect with other authors and readers, and email long lost friends and relatives? But there is so much more I should be doing. The problem is, Romy is sleeping. Her naps are random of length and time. I could sit down and write some more of my new novel (I wrote ten pages early this morning), but if she wakes up, then I'll be interrupted (excuse). I could exercise, but I have not full digested my morning snack (excuse). I could shower, but that might wake her up (excuse). This is how my brain works in guilting myself so badly that I am filled with self-hatred by the end of it. Does anyone else's brain work this way? I'm torturing myself right now. Going mental. And the problem is I have no idea what would make me feel most fulfilled in this short span of time, so I'll just beat myself up until Romy cries. Wait-- is that a peep on the baby monitor? Yes it is! I am spared my self-beating once again. Gotta go snuggle my baby!

Great link: Molly Ringwald writes about John Hughes.