I've just done something I almost never do, and filled up a notebook with work. Normally, I'll get distracted, or lose it, or lose momentum. Of course, this is probably not a good way to be nice to trees, but I'm choosing to see it as a good thing. I'm actually making some effort with this writing malarky.
Thanks to efforts discussed more fully in my fencing blog, I'm spending most of today too exhausted to do much, but weirdly work seems to be flowing anyway. Maybe it's just that I'm not trying too hard.
I'm part way through Jasper Fforde's The Well of Lost Plots (and about half a dozen other things, I really must stop doing this). It seemed to be trying a little too hard at the start, but now, I'm into it more, aside from the endless (and usually pointless) footnotes.
In honour of my brother FINALLY getting the parts for the guitar he's building:
Does snail-mail use real snails
Leaving slimey silver trails
Across the letters that they sort
No wonder post so often fails.
I'm too tired for more than that, or to help him set the thing up.