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As regular readers of the blog (or Victims as I think they preferred to be known) will know, I have a number of recurring obsessions.

Time, or my utter, utter inability to manage it or work out where it goes is one. I mean there has to be a leak, right? If I have a fat balloon one minute, which is all stretchy and shiny and joyful and I turn my back and it is suddenly shrunken and shrivelled and collapsed, then I think you will agree that is a leak right there. Time is my balloon and my balloon appears to have more leaks than 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue right now.

Number two? Writing, and why I seem unable to write that one book that everyone is supposed to have in them which I talk about while wasting time writing on my blog about writing morning pages (see time, above).

My husband crops up quite a bit (three) and not as a mysterious Jason Bourne – type figure that he probably thinks he cuts as I describe him in my blog. Just the man presence in my life who eats all the bananas in the house and is way too adept at pointing out the false logic in my arguments.

Dogs – well I have no excuse about the dogs thing, because quite frankly they are gorgeous and what could be more entertaining than being pounded on a regular basis with tales of Archie taking down a rubbish truck or a St Bernard dog because he thinks he has identified some sort of threat to public safety? Or Lucy being well behaved except when she sees a parrot or feels the need to bury her bone to hide it from Archie, but chooses the sofa as her hiding place.

Finally, of course there is the occasional need to actually commit to a deadline and this is what brings me to tonight. It is why I am typing this, after having stayed late at the office to try and get a little more done before I go home to face either my husband, an empty fruit bowl that once was full of bananas, and almost certainly the two faces of dogs who will be expecting a second walk tonight by trying to convince me that my husband has not already taken them out (it is no good guys, he sent me a text so I know, OK?).

I have another assignment due. It is due on Sunday and today (tonight) is Tuesday. I had all weekend to do the reading and draft up the essay, but Failed to do anything (note the capital F). I dicked about looking at You Tube videos and listening to podcasts and writing other stuff, and now I am in serious trouble. The deadline is Sunday night, I have to work on Sunday afternoon. This is not going to end well.

I have done a bit of thinking today but experience tells me that thinking does not generally get the work done. Doing it is actually what gets the work done and doing is what I have specifically so far failed to do.

So I am going to go home and face the dogs, tell them that the balloon thing happened to Mummy again and they will have to amuse themselves with TV tonight because Mummy has to read, and then I am going to try and draft something up. And if this blog goes very, very quiet for the next few days then I hope you enjoy the rest, because a rest is exactly the opposite of what I will be enjoying. Goodnight.

 

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