Wednesday is my day for heavy-duty writing. Mondays I pay bills and run errands, Tuesday and Thursday I work, Fridays I clean the house and teach a class in the afternoon. I get as much done during the bits of time I have available on those days, but Wednesday is the big day. Nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, fingers to the bone ... you name a work-related aphorism, I'm probably living it out on Wednesday.
Except ... today is a snow day. Coming the day after a sunny-50-degree break in the otherwise relentless winter, this one is particularly unwelcome. It is the tenth day my daughter has stayed home from school due to snow or extreme cold conditions; other than the chance to sleep in, both of us are totally over it. She's holed up in my bedroom watching endless Mythbusters episodes on my iPad, and I'm telling myself I should use the quiet time to get something done. I should sit down and work on my writing, or do research on agents, or revisit my cover letters and synopses.
But the wind is making the house creak, and the tiny chunks of ice flying into the siding are so loud I can't even drown them out with my earbuds and white noise. The birds at the feeder outside my office are going nuts - my feeder is in a sheltered location, which makes it a nice break from the one the neighbors installed, which is closer to the woods but has been canted at a 45-degree angle in the wind all day. I love to watch the sparrows and junkos, and I have been doing so often enough that I've developed a crick in my neck from craning around to see them, but do they have to be so loud when they argue about whose turn it is at the feeder? How can I be expected to get anything done under these conditions?
So ... procrastination. I have finished listening to my latest audiobook, worked on my spinning, done some knitting. I ran the dishes so the dishwasher repair guy could see the problem we're having, only to have him call halfway through the cycle and tell me he wouldn't be coming because of the storm. I have endlessly checked the weather report to see exactly how awful my husband's 4 pm flight into town is going to be (answer: worse every time I check; I doubt he's even going to make it onto the plane until hours after his scheduled arrival). I have endlessly refreshed the contest page to see if the judge has started posting the results from the round in which my second page is entered (she hasn't and won't until tonight at the earliest, and yet I still keep checking). I have looked at my list of chores I'd like to get done this week, and then conveniently discovered reasons why it is not the right time to hang 14,000 pictures in the basement or wash the grease off of the kitchen cabinets.
I stared at the rough draft of the newest story I've been working on, then decided I needed to do some research on a minor plot point. Looking up things on the internet - actual things related to the story, not Facebook links and blog posts, mind you - was good for half an hour of "work," but it also made me realize that I may have to completely scrap my rough draft and rewrite the whole thing to be satisfied. And THAT makes me think that maybe de-greasing the kitchen cabinets doesn't sound so bad, after all. If only I hadn't finished my audiobook already ...