Just as soon as I've finished my morning coffee (two cups, black) and set aside my book, Magic jumps up from his perch beside me in the big green chair and settles expectantly on the floor in front of me. His gracefully plumed tail starts to wag, and, head lowered slightly, he looks out from under slightly overgrown eyebrows with those huge brown eyes of his. A low rumble emerges from his throat, an "nnrrr"-ing sound that is his way of urging me out of my chair and out the door.
It's walk time.
Some mornings (mostly winter mornings) I think about invesing in some indoor Pet Waste Stations or dog exercise equipment. But since I've not done that, I put on my coat, hat, earmuffs, gloves and boots.
And we walk.
When we come in, I'm cold. I need more coffee, so I rinse out the pot from this morning, dump the used filter into the garbage, measure out another four cups of cold water and two scoops of fresh Gevalia coffee. While I'm waiting - and waiting - and waiting - for it to make it's way through the pot, past the grounds, and into the carafe (final destination my china mug), I flip open my iPad and check in with social media. Any new video's of Connor this morning? Yes? I watch it once, then twice, then maybe a third time, lapping up ever little coo, squawk, kick, and squiggle.
By this time, the coffee's done. But wait - before pouring a new cup, I'd better feed the dogs. I open the refrigerator and find the small Pyrex dish containing boiled chicken breast strips. I spoon two out, shred them into tiny bites, pour some broth over them, and pop them into the microwave for 20 seconds. Then I add a scoop of kibble on top.
Now it's time for coffee.
And time to hit my desk. Writing projects await. Blog posts are due, publicity articles and e-mails for Paul's Players, the community theater group I'm helping my friend get off the ground. There's an idea for an essay I keep meaning to explore - (The Blessed Bean-My Love Affair With Coffee).
I pour a fresh cup of said Blessed Bean, and start off toward my writing room. On the way, I notice the pile of laundry I meant to throw in the washer before heading out on the walk. I really need that sweater washed, because I want to wear it tomorrow. It won't take long to do that, so I gather it up and head downstairs to the laundry room.
On my way back up, I spy the canvas bag of books I meant to go through to determine which ones to donate to the library book sale. Those need to be dropped off later today. I settle onto the little couch at the bottom of the basement stairs and paw through the stack. There's a copy of Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections - I didn't know I had that! I don't think I ever read that! I open the cover and read a few pages. Nope, not one bit familiar, but pretty good. I'd better keep this one for a while.
The washing machine beeps. Could that laundry be done already? How long have I been sitting here?
You've got to get
back started on that writing, I tell myself.
Quit putting it off and get busy.
How about you? Do you find lots of ways to put writing off? How do you get yourself into gear? Check out this week's Write On Wednesday to see what did the trick for me.