Kavi had woken me around 5:30, and I had managed to get her out of bed and downstairs to plop in front of the tv and watch home improvement shows in a groggy haze. That was all I did between 5:30 and 9, I think. I don't remember -- it's all fuzzy. Karen came downstairs just as Jarmila arrived, a little early. Jarmila was immediately confronted with a freshly poopy diaper, which she coped with like a champ, freeing me to make us all tea. Desperately needed, because I was incredibly tired and sleepy. Karen and I chatted for a bit and I showed Jarmila some Kavi-care stuff, and then Karen left around 10, and then I have no idea what I did between then and noon -- checked e-mail? Played with the baby? Watched tv and read magazines? No clue!
I finally fell asleep and napped until 2, and woke up feeling slightly more like myself. I still in theory had three hours to write, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Complete failure of willpower. Instead I sat around feeling cranky and sorry for myself for no good reason. Eventually I picked up and read The Gangster We Are All Looking For, one of the books I'm thinking about teaching this spring, so that was useful and pleasurable at the same time. Except that there was a little voice in my head that kept saying I should be writing.
Around 5 we said goodbye to Jarmila and then settled down in the living room, watching tv and playing with baby. Ordered pizza for dinner because Kev and I were still too tired to cook. And it was a pleasant enough evening, except that I was still mad at myself for having a babysitter all day and not getting any writing done. Argh.
So it should've been a good and productive day, and I think I was just too tired to enjoy it, which made me mad. Sigh. At least I rested some. Hopefully, today will be better.
Keep on with the plan to write, Mary Anne. You’ll get there.