So my goal to write every day for 40 days lasted for 3 and then I blew it yesterday. Well, maybe I didn't blow it but I didn't write.
I don't know that I even thought about writing.
And that's what this is all about.
Making the writing so much a part of me again that I can't go to sleep knowing I haven't done it.
A part of my routine like brushing my teeth or scraping my tongue or checking my email. Things I do automatically, without debating or thinking or struggling or wondering.
And so, today I'm starting again.
Fighting a slight cold. A bit nervous about my documentary shoot tomorrow. Re-knitting the sweater I'd already half done.
Waiting for The Office to start.
Quietly basking in my family all doing their own things but close enough so I can feel them nearby.