Wreck of the Day

Today was a train wreck, but not because anything bad happened, and not because anyone swooped down in the middle like some kind of drama condor to take a crap in the middle of it. It was…quiet. It was introspective.

It was something of a waste.

I woke up at an hour that would have had my grandmother howling about how much of my day I’d wasted before I’d even opened my eyes, but it was justified by my 2am arrival time at home the preceding night. I woke up restored and without aide of squalling digital devices that seem to want me to spring forth from my sumptuous bedding wide awake and ready to attack the day. I roused myself slowly, which is what works best for me, and made coffee, breakfast and filled the dishwasher. I even managed to wash the dishes and file some Magic cards, clearing some of the cardboard fungus from my cluttered desktop. I got a load of laundry in and I even finished reading the Harlan Ellison collection I’d been working on and finished listening to the Nabokov story I’d had running on my iPod. It wasn’t an unproductive day, even though I didn’t pull out the work computer.

But it was still wasted.

I didn’t write a damn thing. Other than this blog entry, that is.

I have a few ideas rattling around in my head at the moment. One needs to fester up there for a little while longer, so I’m not overly concerned about not getting any of it out on paper, but it just feels like with such a quiet day (my SO being out of the house for most of it), that I should have gotten something more important done. I’m a little regretful and ashamed of squandering a perfect day for writing.

There is a little more than an hour left, so I’m going to try to salvage it from the mess I’ve made of it.

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