It's not that I dislike editing. It's that it's in all these discrete chunks, making it so tempting to get up and wander around between each one. And if I did that, then I'd be editing for months, instead of weeks. I have dishes to do, counters to clean, milk to buy -- there are a thousand tiny errands that could be fit in between each piece of editing. But I have to force myself to stay in the chair, do at least five or six at a time before getting up and wandering around.
It's funny; I'm tired, but still restless. I should be glad that I have a job that's all about basically sitting still; this isn't much more physically tiring than watching tv, so it's a good gig for a convalescent. But my body just wants to move -- to hang up clothes, to send packages, to make the bed. I don't understand myself sometimes.
