I am such a dork. I goofed around all morning, reading Pratchett and watching tv. That's okay. But then I showered and lotioned and gooped my hair and dressed in real clothes, the kind you wear out of doors, where people might see you, and I even put on my killer new boots and I told Kevin I was leaving and I packed my bag with my computer and headphones and I put on my coat, my scarf, my hat, my gloves, and I was all set for going to Borders. I walked out the door, outside, halfway across the Giordano's parking lot to the UIC-Halsted blue line stop...and that's when I remembered that I promised Duncan I'd get him those Kathryn edits by the end of the day today. Which I was not going to be able to do in a bookstore. Sigh.
I suppose I could've gone out, worked at Borders, and come back by 5 to e-mail the results, but that's a bit chancy. It would be so easy to pick up the Hoffman, for one thing, and for another, if I'd gotten into a writing groove, I would've been forced to stop at 4-ish, which would be frustrating. So, I came back home, changed out of all those clothes and into sweatpants and a comfy ballet top, lit a bunch of candles, made fresh tea. It's still a little chilly; I think I'll grab a sweatshirt too -- our wonderful big windows make the main room kind of cold. And then I'll work, and it'll be fine, there's nothing wrong with working at home, but I just feel like a doofus for getting all dressed up first.