How Time Flies

I've already broken my New Year's Resolution, which was to not make any New Year's Resolutions, by making a New Year's Resolution (if you get my drift). Which is to write a 1000 words a day. I know it's a tad ambitious, but I love that 'clean slate' feeling of a new year, when anything (even writing a 1000 words a day) seems possible. To that end, my laptop and I - still in the first flush - have been doing our best to oblige. At 7.30 this morning, after Husband had slipped off to work, I opened him up (Laptop, not Husband - do keep up) and started typing. Mum was asleep in the guest room, the Teens were nowhere to be heard and the dog was happy enough on the landing. Perfect. I looked at the clock about four minutes later and thought, OH MY GOD!!! It was 11am. What the...? How...? Of course there'd been distractions during that time. Teen son 1 wanted to know if I could give him a lift somewhere this afternoon, and Teen son 2 made several demands to be noticed, Mum had a bath and made herself some breakfast, (oops) and my tummy started rumbling with hunger, but I hadn't really taken it in. This is the trouble when I do actually start writing. I Zone Out, like one of those people tricked onto stage by a spooky hypnotist, who taps them on the shoulder and says "sleep" and when they wake up they've eaten a raw onion thinking it was an apple, stripped to their undercrackers and danced to the Birdie Song, and managed to offend their entire family.

This is why (and I know it sounds like an excuse - probably because it is) normally, I daren't start writing before I've (crucially) got out of bed, got myself showered and dressed, fed and walked the dog, done some shopping, made a cake (I love baking), made sure there's something for dinner, browsed the internet (for research purposes, obviously) and, er, gone to work on the days I do work (mind you, by then it's usually bed-time). Because if I didn't, I'd start tapping away at say, 8am, and come round hours later looking dazed and confused, having forgotten to eat all day. Actually that would never happen. Although...hang on. What's that on my bedside table?? Could it be...surely it's not! Is that...is that a half-eaten onion? Oh dear.

(Parts of this post have been dramatised for comedic effect - Ed).