I woke up this morning around 6, got up by 6:30 and was out on the patio writing my journals before my alarm was even set to go off at 7. After that, I made breakfast, straightened the apartment, whipped up some butter coffee and started working on my book. By 11 o’clock, I’d reached my word count for the day, just in time to be available for the Whole Foods delivery I’d ordered the day before. Groceries were wiped and put away by the time my Night Owl wife woke up so, by noon, I’d pretty much accomplished everything I wanted to do for the day (except for this post).
After that, I didn’t know what to do. I sunbathed on the patio, tried to read for pleasure, took a nap but it all felt… off. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t doing all the above in lieu of writing, but because I had written.
That’s going to take some getting used to.