As usual, a couple of days off, and I have blasted the hell out of my schedule. I don’t know if it’s the caffeine or the slow slide out of waking up at three in the morning, so I can do other things in the “evening” but I keep running into the thing where I don’t sleep, and then I’m up running around on empty.

Maybe I can blame the thunderstorm.

And maybe I can blame thunderstorms all spring. We’re expecting more of them.

Seems like it’s those moments when I should have the most time to work on my revision that I wind up having the least. Days off eaten up by a little of this and a little of that. I’m fairly sure my biggest achievement this time was a nice cheeseburger.

What this gets down to is discipline, of course. It always does.

I need the extra time in the morning to get things done, and I need discipline to—ya know—be awake at three in the morning on my days off.

I have yet to get to the place where my deep, dark subconscious believes that sleeping until five or six is sleeping in, and I’m not sure how to get there.

I’m not sure if I want to get there.

Visions of sugar plums quitting their jobs keep dancing through my head.

Dew-drop fairies dancing their way to… I have no idea what. Something better.

And where are my friends? All married with children… or divorced with children… or some other thing that looks like progress to the outside world.

I’m getting a cup of tea. American Style… black as the pit and served over ice… and maybe that will make me feel less pointless.

At the very least, I’ll be less thirsty.