Just one of those days…

So far, for me anyway, it’s been the worst winter ever.  Cold.  Wet.  Power outages. Broken pipes.  So, I made up my mind to take advantage of the inhospitable outside realms and close myself up in my office and  write.  There are books in my head and no time like the present.

Today, though, things ran a bit amok.  I was making great progress — following 1880 saloon keeper Dan Rodway up and  down the streets of Oysterville when I suddenly realized, “Oh shit!  It’s Wednesday!”

Out I dashed, bathrobe on but no slippers, past the clock that said 8:05 and on to the kitchen where all clocks said 7:58.  Hoping for the latter, I dashed out to the garage, opened the door, shoved out the dumpster while avoiding most of the puddles in my bare feet,  and looked up and  down the street.  Not another dumpster in sight.  None.  “Which,” I told myself, “doesn’t really mean much.  If they aren’t in residence, they don’t have garbage.  Or they are as forgetful as am I.”

When next I surfaced, it was time to go to the post office to collect the mail and, most importantly, the Observer.  I remembered in time to drag in the dumpster before running it over and… YAY!  Empty!  I’d made it!

The day continued (as far as I know) while I was buried in census reports and old documents.  About three I surfaced once again — coffee calling.  And… wow!  Blue sky!  Sunshine!  Almost Spring weather!

I can’t decide if what I accomplished writing-wise was worth missing the glorious weather.  Damn!

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