I’ve gotten a whole chapter done! At this rate I won’t even be finished by April. Frick.
I have been watching what I eat since October, which always leaves me hungry by the time I get off work. I’ve noticed this past week that I can’t write when I get like that. So I need to come up with something to snack on after work that is light enough that I’ll eat when I get home.
That’ll fix about half the problem.
Once I’m done the description edit of His Wings in about three more days, I’ll be writing on my phone at home. I’m pretty certain if I put a game or something on my computer, I can pull it off.
Officially I’ll have six weeks off work.
Unless I get to the other side and they interview me and it just so happens the secondary boss has quit and they offer me that position. That’s the only emergency sort of scenario that would make me go back before all the hoops I have to jump through.
Yes, I’ll be able to sleep in, and yes I’m so looking forward to it.
But not having my stuff for two weeks is going to stress me out. Having to get my license back is going to spike my anxiety.
Going to Mexico for a week is a freaking bonus but I wouldn’t be in the country to work…
And then there’s a wedding that’s going to cause a lot of anxiety. I’m doing almost everyone a favour by staying home.
I’m thinking the first week, around family stuff and arranging my license, I’ll just play video games. Two days in I’ll get bored, I know it, and go back to work in some kind of manic filled manner. But stuff will get done and the game playing will be out of my system.
I’m thinking The Awakened or Contract Delivered for March. Want to get the second done and get on editing that trilogy and the stand alone. Get them up. They’re burning a hole in my usb.
I have to figure something out for May, as I will be without a computer etc for over half the month. I may start May’s project at the end of April’s. I do want to do one book a month, and in theory I’ll have a lot of free time because I will be working part-time then, but I like having plans in place.
Fifty-nine days to my last day of work. Sixty-six until I arrive in my new home.
Blood on both the ceiling and floor of the public washroom I have to use almost daily (stupid bladder the size of a pea) and a literal pile of trash in my front yard. I feel like the city is starting to fall apart, but I’ve loved it for years.