Naps are my best friend (sorry, Bob!) But it's a love hate thing, as in, I hate myself when I love the thought of having one a couple of hours after I got out of bed in the first place.
I particularly hate early-day snooziness within 24 hours of finishing one project and having another accepted. I feel that this is a time I should be uber-productive and high-powered and generally resembling a responsible adult.
All of which is to say that I felt beyond guilty taking a 9:30 nap yesterday. And nothing washed that guilt away.
Not jotting down an idea, writing up some numbers, and knitting an entire project before the day was done.
And definitely not thinking about how to make the short story better, and pondering how it fits in with my other short stories, and considering whether I have enough yet for a collection?
(No.)
Because let's face it: if you can't get yourself out of the house and over to the nearest baker of chocolate croissants, can you even think about calling yourself 'productive'?
I am totally getting on that today.
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