There are other things standing between me and writing this novel:
1. I have an overwhelming commitment to whittling down the Now Playing List on TiVo. Right now this is teeming with different movies from the Friday the 13th franchise. But there is also quite a bit of the CW on my weekly to-do list.
2. If I don't read at least two books a week I start to freak out in a really uncharacteristic way, previously seen in the 90s when I alphabetized my CDs. These manic control freak moments are so bizarre. It's like my inner Virgo is trying to claw her way to the surface, but she keeps getting defeated by sweatpants girl, whose personal motto is: "Am I asleep, or am I awake? I'll never tell." If I don't read enough, I feel like I'm falling behind on all the words out there and I'm not going to get to everything I want to read before I'm 90. I tend to my Amazon wish list the way some people handle a container garden. Reading is my favorite hobby.
3. I like to spend all of my free time that overlaps with Chuck's free time sitting no further than four inches away from him.
4. I get up too late in the morning to do anything more complicated than drinking a cup of coffee and wrapping something colorful around my head to distract people from my unshowered hair.
5. I have a huge problem with Saturdays. I find them really depressing, and I can't get myself to do anything until the sun goes down. When I say Saturday is the Monday of weekends, I mean that in a really bad way.
And now, to further distract myself from the task at hand, I have come home two days this week with a short story knocking around in my skull. I started the first one, and the second is on simmer. But this, too, is just another thing standing between me and a bit of printed bullshit that I won't let my mom read.