So many books, so little time

That's the slogan on my favourite pair of mugs, which are decorated with uncharacteristically cheery Edward Gorey art.

Today the problem is not so much too many books - or even too many magazines - but too many interesting or productive or at least sensible things to do and only one Canada Day in which to do them.

I have decided to write this morning... and then this afternoon I might reset a brick flowerbed edge, and lay out the rest of the mulch, and cut up the pruning pile for compost, and clear out the really lumpy closet (no, wait, there's no way I'm doing that. That closet is evil), and go through more stacks of paper for keep and toss festings.

Boy, I really know how to have a good time! But it's only for another four weeks. By August if I'm not done a really good solid draft of this novel, I will turn into a pumpkin. And pumpkins do know how to light it up.