I can't tell if I'm never working or always working. I woke up at 1:15, 4:59 and 8:16 to feed Zoe. Up for good at 8:45. Made coffee, fed the cats, fed the dog, made 4 slices of the Avenues' cranberry pecan bread. Read the paper. Fed Zo at 9:30. Found Cleo's collar and leash, put Zoe in her kangaroo carrier and walked ourselves to the park. Came home, watered outside plants. Came in, cleaned up wineglasses from last night, read more newspaper. 11:17 Tried to convince Zoe she wanted to be naked in her crib. 11:35 gave up, gave her an apricot oil massage, fed her until 12:05. Recycled newspaper. Started to think about lunch. Got out a chicken breast and went outside to start grill. Grill wouldn't start. Came in to get lighter. Zoe fussy. Took Zoe and lighter outside and stood in front of grill, gas on. Thought better of lighting it and put Zoe on the grass next to Cleo (good babysitter, Cleo). Lit grill, came in. Put Zoe in swing. Grated parmasan. Made a fake Caesar Salad dress (lemon juice, mayo, worstchestershire, parmasan, garlic clove). Grilled chicken. Tore up lettuce. Looked at blogs while chicken cooked. Blogged a short depressing blog about New Orleans. (Blogs--like newspapers, but worse. I've read the entire alittlepregnant.com twice). Checked email (not much. One from Burger. It's Sunday of a labor day weekend). Got chicken off grill. Let it rest. Read some more blog. Cut up chicken and tossed salad. Ate while reading blogs. Found Cleo. Gave her a bit of chicken. Turned off swin for Zoe. Found bar of chocolate. Ate some of it. Blogged this.
I wanted to do today:
Send out manuscripts.
Writer more on the wolf piece.
Finish new QW website.
Must put down chocolate to even begin to do work. Now I feel like taking a nap.
Perhaps it's the blogs/newspapers that seem like I'm doing something (I like to call it research in my day planner) when I'm not. Perhaps I should limit the research to an hour a day. Of course, I'd probably just fill that time with more research, like watching the Discovery Channel or reading the New Yorker.
Now I've eaten most of the chocolate and thought about how I must have missed Lynn and Sylvia's half marathon. Guilt for the chocolate and for not cheering on my friends. Go friends I say from here as I look to Zoe to see if she's hungry. Someone has to get the calories from the chocolate and it had better not be me. See. Even eating chocolate can be considered work. I'm metabolizing for my baby!
OK. Really. Now I have to breastfeed and type if I'm going to get a stitch of work done today. I need one more arm. Or perhaps a well designed sling......