Why is it that whenever there is serious work to be done everything else seems so fascinating?
I'm working on my editing project, dreaming of the payment that will hit my PayPal account as soon as I'm done, but every chance I get I'm wandering off to do other stuff. At 9:30pm I went to Ross. My back was hurting from lying on the floor to work, so I figured I'd grab a floor pillow or two. I found a pillow, and a dress, which took me until 10:45 (gotta dig those holiday hours), at which time I moseyed over to Kroger's to buy snacks, because what is editing a manuscript without snacks, I ask you? I also bought holiday cards and an O Magazine. This month Oprah questions how she let herself get fat again. Have we not asked ourselves this same question? Hopefully Oprah's answers will be our answers too. That way we can consider the matter closed without having to think too much.
Aside from the shopping, I've eagerly exchanged e-mails with my boss (I'm never eager for work communiques, so that should tell you something), done the dishes, harassed Mira, and just as I was about to enthusiastically clean her litter box, been granted something adorable to look at in Natalie's latest project. Now here I am writing a longer post than I intended.
I'd better get back to work.