Well, I guess that worked; I certainly did

Got up a little after seven this morning, and took the laptop to our regular early-morning coffee get-together. After everyone else toddled off to work at nineish, Dave and I just sat across from each other and worked. By the time I came home at half twelve, I had better than two thousand words behind me.

Yay! So now I can put my feet up relax break down the remainder of last night's chicken and put something together for lunch and make stock and take stock and empty the dishwasher and fill the dishwasher and sort out the kitchen and shop for dinner and do some research reading* before I even need to think about writing anything more. Though I'd like to end up with three thousand for the day, because I can't remember the last time I did that.


*The nice thing about this list? Don't tell anyone, but actually none of that feels like work to me. But then, at the moment even work doesn't really feel like work to me. It's too much fun. And I get to play games: like this evening, after 45K words, it should finally pass the Bechdel test. Explicitly and deliberately, a hundred years before the Bechdel test existed. And if I do it right, nobody should realise... *chortles*