Might As Well

I should totally be typing up my manuscript for GET WELL SOON 2: The Walk of Life [if I keep making up stupid sequel titles, maybe one of them will actually be good].  I'm 62 pages in.  Out of 397.  Poop.  It's so slow-going and gives me great anxiety.  I have chewed six pieces of gum in the last hour.  The gum loses its flavor and texture almost instantly.  If I'm not chewing gum, then I'm chewing my fingers.  So it's pop another piece or my fingers turn into nubs.  It's also one of those days when I was actually quite productive, but I still feel like I'm being a bad girl.  I woke up (naturally) at 6:30, worked on my book for an hour until Romy woke up.  Then I took Romy to gymnastics class and to the grocery store.  We had lunch, she made a big poo (hurrah!), and she went down for her nap.  I called and refinanced my mortgage with a decent, but not as great as I'd hoped, rate.  They claimed I'll save $59,000 if I pay it off in twenty years.  That will probably pay for one month of college by the time Romy's of age.

So I guess I've been busy.  But 62.  That's it.  And here I am blogging and checking my (pathetically empty!) email over and over again.  The only motivation I have is the idea of finishing, but that's so far off that I'm not inspired by it at all.  Instead, I keep hoping some magic email is going to come that will announce a fabulous book deal or film adaptation or something else ridiculously unexpected. 

Time for another piece of gum