I like the idea of waking up early--really early, like 6, and going out for a jog in the brisk morning air, and then coming home awake and alive and invigorated and getting to work and dashing off five or six pages of wonderfully amazing writing as I blithely drink my morning coffee.
Except that I've never been an early riser, and I work nights so this great idea doesn't seem as great when I'm finally getting to bed around 1:30 ... And there's no way I can jog down my street that lacks sidewalks, especially when it's cloudy and miserable outside. And at 6 it's pretty dark 'round these parts, too, most of the year. So what do I do instead? Flop out of bed around ten and slouch stiffly to the computer ... and wait for inspiration to strike. I know what I want to get done today but haven't even got around to opening my word processor and it's almost lunchtime. Well, maybe another cup of coffee and the gears will start moving.
If I'd woke up at six, though, I'd be done by now. Maybe this thought is distracting any belated progress I could possibly make at this point.
I have a list of a half dozen things I wanted to get done this month, with only two marked off and we're 2/3 of the way through September. And I go back to school on this coming Monday. Maybe it's time to start getting serious?
Maybe another cup of coffee.
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