I started strong on this 70 Days thing, but it's been rocky lately. Tired. Not an evening writer. Sick of this damned scene that just doesn't want to get writ.

Said it before, that I thought I had figured it out. Well, I think I have figured it out. But I'm at the stage where I write 100 words and it feels like a thousand, which I think has to do with the fact that I'm inserting this scene a sentence at a time, then checking the flow. Should just settle down and write it. But I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open now, so, sleep, pathetic word count or not.

I need more day in my day. I also wish this MacBook black keyboard wasn't so damned hard to see in low lighting.

Much to do, and none of it done. If I'd been even partways industrious, I could have finished collating receipts for the accountant this evening and spent the weekend checking things at a leisurely pace in between writing and cookie baking and maybe bathroom cleaning. But no, instead the evening was spent diddlebricking around, touring my town via Google Maps. And so a little more hectic was added to the weekend.

I waste too much time. On my deathbed will I plead, 'please give me back the time I spent on Google Maps!' And just at the edge of my hearing, the Cosmic Phfft! will sound.

The way I get in the way of my own life. You can't beat it with a stick. Then of course, I have to blog about it.