Today was spent making one Christmas present (and about four attempts of a quarter of another one). Fun, until the second present started annihilating my right hand. This took seven hours.
My mom and I decorated our Christmas tree. Looks cool, but isn’t finished until I finish the presents. Sigh.
And we did all of this listening to carols. Awesome in the beginning, but by hour four it started to grate. Still, I can say that for about three hours I was pretty dang cheerful. Maybe it was that second bookmark that ruined it.
So needless to say, I didn’t even look at any of my writing. I’m thinking that a few hours of this mind-numbing repetitive motion might just be good for my writing, but darn, I’m starting to feel the stirrings of frustration now, because I haven’t written nearly enough.
Does it happen to you at all that you do something that has to be done, that’s food for you because you’re taking a break, and all you feel is annoyed?